Terra Incognita
by Tenebrion Factor
Summary: When the truth comes out behind his existence, Terrence finds his only sanctuary in Foster's. New chap up.
1. Default Chapter

A/N: JTHM fans (if any)- no need to freak out or anything. I'll still be writing about my favorite homicidal maniac, and even posting a Johnny fic as I post chapters to this. I live!

For anyone who has decided to actually read this ranting evil drivel, let it be known, this story has a slight A/U. Disregard the 'Seeing Red' ep completely, and anything else that doesn't 'go along' with things in the fic. Also, there's probably an OOC factor in here with MANY of the characters, most of all, angry, little Terrence. I like his anger. It makes me giggle like some pre-pubescent school girl.

I never said I was good at writing.

WARNING: OOC-ness and slight A/U. Also, there is cussing. There, done.

Disclaimer: I don't own a 'darn' thing.

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**Terra Incognita**

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Chapter 1: Watching the awkward ice break

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_I wear this crown of shit_

_Upon my liar's chair_

_Full of broken thoughts_

_I cannot repair_

_-Hurt, NIN_

_---_

"So what did you do today in school? Anything interesting?"

"Not really," she answered, setting down her backpack on the steps leading up to their apartment building. "Nothing exciting anyway. We did draw today, though..."

"Lemme see."

She nodded, blushing slightly, and pulled something out of her bag. It was folded up carefully, as if it held all the wisdom of the world packaged away inside, and she handed it to him, her rosy cheeks getting pinker and pinker as he held it up to gaze upon.

"Is that me?" he asked, sounding a bit bashful, a delighted grin spreading out across his face. She nodded, smiling wide and pointed to another part of the picture, clearly excited. "And that's you," he replied to her silent outburst. "Holding my hand," he added, running his hand through his messy hair, a small addition to the many other strange flaws he held.

That alone might've detoured her feelings for him, if it had not been for the fact that that was her fault. The ragged clothes, the crooked teeth, even his somewhat dorky laugh: all that was from her. After all, that was how brothers were supposed to look; she'd seen them portrayed that way almost everywhere she went and almost everything she saw. TV, posters, comic books, school. So that was how she made him. She had always wanted someone to protect her from the bullies and such, like big brothers did for their little sisters. And now, she had one of her own.

"I drawed it for you," the words escaped her five-year old lips as she giggled. "I hope you like it. Teacher told us to draw ourselves with someone we love and since I love you, I drawed you with me. Bradley Stuzie said it was stupid though."

"Well, I love it," he grinned once more. "Don't worry about Bradley. He's stupid. Really stupid."

"So you like it?! Really?" She giggled again, clinging to his shirt. "Am I right? Am I right? Are we gonna always be together and be friends forever?!"

Maybe if he'd have thought that a five year old could understand what it would've meant if he had said different; maybe something like, "only if you don't give me up," or "I don't know," he might've stopped himself from saying it. But she was a little girl, his creator, and naturally, he couldn't believe that she was going to ever be capable of letting him go. So he didn't say any of that.

He nodded, without thinking and answered with an "of course," and embraced her lovingly in his arms. The sun shone down on them both, living in a picture-perfect painting; caught in a sort of sibling hug, creator and creation; between mother and son. It was truly beautiful, and they were truly content.

It was a shame he would never remember it.

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She had been thinking of ways to tell him for years. Trying to persuade herself that she could make him understand. Without scarring him forever. Once she told him, there would be no going back. They wouldn't be a family anymore. If only she had told him earlier, like three years ago...

Three years ago, it would've probably been easier then, when there wasn't so much pressure to do so. When she didn't have to worry about never seeing him again. When she didn't have to give him up. At least then, she could try to help him cope with it all. Of course, this was her fault. She should be there anyway to help him recover from what she knew would be a terrifying shock.

She lied to him, and he would be the one to pay for it.

She couldn't very well keep lying to him though. As the years passed, he grew increasingly suspicious that there was something different about him; something wrong. She couldn't keep it up forever, this lie. And it tore her apart.

"I can't do this anymore...." she said aloud, sitting in her car in the parking lot, just outside the apartment building. She should've been inside an hour ago, to greet her children and make dinner, but stayed glued to the seat of her car, still trying to figure it all out.

Maybe, she shouldn't have made him look and feel so human...

"There's just not enough money, and he...we can't go on like this, with them fighting all the time and I don't have the time or the patience. I don't...I can't...He's my son, but-but I can't take care of him anymore..." She seemed to be trying to convince herself of something that just couldn't be fixed. But the more she tried to rationalize it all, the more difficult the situation became and the guiltier she felt.

After all, he'd been there since before Mac was even conceived, since she was four. He took care of her when she was young, and now, she was taking care of him. But now days....

It was just too hard.

Maybe if she had considered it all at the beginning, she wouldn't have lied to him. She hadn't known they could deviate the behavior from what their creators had created for them. If she had known that, it would all be different.

"If only I knew what to say. How to tell him... when to leave him." She tore the keys from the ignition, and stepped out of the car, waiting and wondering, an ocean of tears building up behind her eyes. 6 Years worth of lies, about to come crashing down on one terribly confused boy.

"He'll never forgive me..."

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"WEDGIE!!"

The sounds of pounding sneakers against a cuffed floor filled the air of a once silent apartment. There was screaming from both parties: one from fear, the other from a slur of emotions, anger, sadness, contempt. Things he would never allow anyone else to see beneath his exterior miserable teen flesh.

"Aaaaaaaagh!! Terrence! Stoppit!!" the child, full of fear, screamed, diving over the couch as he tried miserable to adjust his undies, now shifted uncomfortably between his cheeks. He hit the floor painfully hard on his head and flipped over onto his back. He rolled over on his tummy to fix the little predicament currently riding up on him further. He had to fix this now. His brother was out of control.

As usual.

"What was that?" a voice thundered above him and a shadow fell over his small body. Mac turned over, coming face to face with the monster; the same that lived inside his nightmares and out. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear you. I think you said you want another one!"

Mac screamed again, dodging Terrence's grip just by a hair. He scrambled to towards the front door, hoping that maybe his mom would be standing there just as he opened it, or at least he could run off and maybe tire the big doofus out. Terrance just didn't know when to give up.

Too bad his brother got to him first.

He grabbed Mac's little legs and pulled him away from the door, just inches away from Mac's hand. Holding his younger sibling upside down, he grinned devilishly and replied, a hint of evil in his voice, "Aw, you seem to be scared, little bro. What are you afraid of? Me? Its me, isn't it? I can't understand why. I mean, its me, your big brother. Little, old harmless Terrence. Why, I wouldn't hurt a fly." He suddenly slammed his fist down on the table nearby, crushing a bug that had been scampering its way around the house.

Mac flinched at his words and at the sudden harmful action that followed, awaiting the worst of what was sure to come.

"Ya know," Terrence remarked suddenly, moving away from the table and down the hall. "I think we should do Mom a favor and, well, clean up the house, like little angels."

His brother would've been somewhat startled if he hadn't suspected something. "You...you do? You really want to clean up?"

"Of course I do," Terrence laughed, roughly kicking the bathroom door open and strutting inside, Mac still in hand. "And ya know what? I think we should start with the toilet."

Mac's eyes snapped wide open. "No! No, Wait, Terrence!!" he gasped, struggling. "Let me go!! Leggo!! You can't do this!!!"

Terrence stopped short just a few short steps away from the porcelain wonder, and glared at Mac with angry eyes, that grin still plastered on his youthful features, and he ran his tongue over his teeth. "I don't think you're in any position to be giving orders and telling me what I can and can't do. I'm bigger, I'm stronger, and I'm in charge. And since I'm in charge, I can do whatever I want!"

"Terrence, really!! Stop! Please!!" Mac shrieked as he was lowered down towards the water. "Nooooooooo!!!"

"This is the way he flush our toys, flush our toys, flush our toys, flush our toys. This is the way we flush our toys, 'cuz little brothers are really stu-pid!" Terrence sang, dipping the top of Mac's head into the toilet and flushing. He cackled merrily, pulling his sibling out for air, then dunking him back in, over and over and over again, until...

There was always an 'until.' And it was always 'until Mom came home.' Terrence was ill-prepared since he didn't hear her enter the apartment nor did he see her out of the corner of his eye as she stood in the doorway, in total awe and disbelief. Not that she should have been. She should've expected this, since it was always a similar situation she'd come home to almost every night.

It wasn't until she started yelling at him, that he stopped, promptly dropping his little brother completely in the toilet. Without a second's thought, Terrence grabbed a hold of Mac's flailing leg and dropped him on the bathroom floor.

"Gee, Mom. You're home early."

Mom sighed, raising her hand to her forehead, then glanced at Mac, his hair a horrible wreck of swirls. "Mac, honey, could you go to your room for a little while? Get some dry clothes on and play with your toys, okay?"

Mac nodded, wanting ever so much to shoot his brother a raspberry, but he thought it best not to since Terrence was already in a mess of trouble. He made his way out of the bathroom and towards his room, where he slowly closed the door just enough that he could hear what was going on without being seen. He was, after all, a curious 8 year old.

As soon as she was certain he was locked away in his bedroom, Mom shot her oldest child a hard glare. Terrence immediately, and very audibly, gulped. He knew what was coming.

"Terrence, I need to speak with you." Her voice seemed softer than usual, almost hesitant. But Terrence paid no mind to that. He had stopped listening, since this was a phrase he heard time and time again.

He closed his eyes, and nodded, not wanting to see that anger he faced every night, when she found him being destructive. Mom led the way to the bedroom.

He lagged behind for a moment, taking a quick look into the bathroom mirror, cracked along it's the side. It had been that way for over a year, when he was beating the snot out of Mac. It had been some harmless (well...maybe not harmless...) fun until that damned Bloo came flying out of nowhere like some retarded superhero and knocked Terrence into the glass.

He couldn't understand why he did those things; why he felt the need to pulverize his sibling and trash the apartment; why did he need to make others' lives so miserable? It was a question he often asked himself, and he always came back to the same conclusion: _Because I'm the big brother...that's what brothers do..._

That alone was enough to justify his actions.

Terrence studied himself in the mirror for a few more seconds, studying his face and remembering what Mom told him.

It was about the way he looked. In the past few years, he noticed that he didn't seem to be changing. Even when he was ten, he had always looked 13. He just didn't seem to be capable of growing or aging, and he was so confused as to why. When he finally asked his mother, she answered slowly, as if she were trying pull something out of air, "Its just a gland problem, sweetie. You'll grow soon, I promise..."

He wasn't sure if he believed her. One thing was certain: if he didn't outgrow this 'gland' thing or whatever, pretty soon, Mac would be bigger and stronger than him, and Terrence would be on the receiving end of the daily punishments for existing.

Sighing loudly, he headed to Mom's room, where she waited sitting on the edge of bed as she had done with Mac that day Bloo was sentenced to be kicked out.

Terrence loved thinking about that day.

However, he knew this time that he wouldn't be enjoying this one. He entered the room, finding her face buried in her hands, convulsing slightly.

She didn't seem to be crying, just frustrated, as she often was whenever she had to have a talk with her kids, but now... now she seemed saddened. As if she was preparing herself to cry.

_Maybe she's remembering about Dad, again_, Terrence thought to himself, stopping in his place. He almost decided to head for his room instead, but he couldn't just leave with her acting so strange. So he rolled his head back, hearing a sudden snapping noise, then proceeded to take another step forward.

Was he the cause of this, he wondered. Had he gone to far? Had he driven her to the point of a mental breakdown? He ignored these questions for the moment, and finally found his voice. "Um...Mom? Are you-" he wasn't used to acting so concerned, "are you oh-kay?"

His mother looked up, a few tears escaping her eyes, and patted the seat next to her. "Terrence. We-we need to talk..."

So she was crying. Oh God, how he hated that, especially when he was forced to sit there and watch someone go through it. Especially when it was his mom.

Terrence did as told. "Mom, if this is about beating Mac up, which I know it is, then I'm sorry, but I can't help it. He's just so small and so stupi-"

"No," his mother interrupted. "Well, sort of. That's-that's part of it." She touched his shoulder, feeling him tense, and she withdrew. "Terrence, what do you remember...before Mac was born?"

Terrence looked at the ceiling, finding himself suddenly feeling very sick. He hated trips down memory road. "Um, I remember when I was in the hospital with you when you were pregnant and I got kicked out for kicking the doctors in the shins when they told me I had to let you rest....why?"

"No, I mean. Something I've never reminded you of," Mom replied. "Something we've never discussed. Can you remember, anything?"

He thought some more, his stomach going through all kinds of twists and turns. He felt like he was going to throw up. But through all the thinking and remembering, his mind stayed vacant of any pictures he may have had. He just couldn't remember.

"Nuh uh. I don't remember. But I've never had the best memory anyway. So what?"

Mom shook her head slightly, still looking at him with sullen eyes, "There's a reason for that, Terrence. For your not remembering. You know that scar. The one on the back of your head?"

Terrence reached back, touching the scar on his scalp; a small line, almost like a scab, tracing down slightly. It hurt when he touched it, and he drew his hand back. "Yeah? What about it? I got that when I was riding my bike, right?"

She looked away, shaking her head again. "That accident, with your father...you were with him, and you sustained a blow to the back of your head. The doctors, they said you suffered from amnesia. Everything you remember about when you were little. I made those up, and you believed that they had actually happened. You never...you never even questioned it."

There was a pause. Then, "Ooooookay....um..." It hadn't sunk in yet.

She pulled something out from under the bed-a picture, framed nicely in a complex, golden border. "I knew I'd have to show you this someday. I never would've have thought I would have to do it now."

Mom held it up for the both of them to look at and placed her finger over a specific spot in the photo. "Do you recognize her, Terrence? Does she look familiar to you? At all?"

Terrence looked the subject over then answered, clearly confused, "I dunno....You? When you were a little girl? Four, I guess...why is this important? Aren't you going to yell at me or something?" He honestly didn't want to remind of that, but this was getting weird. She was acting like she was trying to relive the forgotten past, something that Terrence absolutely hated doing.

Mom nodded. "You're right. That's me. When I was four." She moved her finger along the glass and pointed to another figure, standing next to her little girl image. "What about him?" Her voice quivered.

He stared at it, and it was as if his brain shut down. The world outside this picture no longer existed, and he suddenly lost the ability to comprehend reality altogether. What he was seeing disproved everything he had ever known. His eyes grew wide, and his mouth fell open. It just couldn't be.

But there it was, sitting before him, sitting in his lap, mocking his life,

He tore his gaze away, his shocked eyes locking with saddened eyes of his mother. "I don't get it. That's not possible..." He leapt up, throwing the picture onto the mattress. "That's not possible!!" he shouted, pointing an accusing finger at the photo. "No! That's not real!!"

Mom grabbed his arm gently and pulled him back down in his seat. She showed him the photo once more, her finger once again on the impossible figure. "It is possible," she whispered, her face wet with tears. "It is, Terrence."

Terrence shook his head, not wanting to believe her.

But she didn't stop. Her finger remained on the glass and the picture in her hand. "Its true, Terrence. It's there. It's real..."

There was pause.

"You're not human."

He stood up, beginning to pace a small line in front of her. A part of him wanted to run off to his room and never leave the safety it held. The other part wanted to believe her...it would explain so much. Why he never had an imaginary friend for himself, why he felt so angry and out of place. Why he knew he was so different.

He didn't do either. "No...you're lying. It can't be. It's manipulated...or something...Who put you up to it?" he asked suddenly. "Who put you up to this?! Was it Mac? It was that little brat, wasn't it?! Him and that stupid blue blob friend he pulled out of his ass! I know it was! I'll kill them! I'll kill them both!!" He was so upset, he hadn't even realized that he had cussed in front of his mother, who didn't even acknowledge it.

"Terrence!" she shouted, trying to make herself heard over his screaming. "Terrence, just stop it!!"

The boy bit his lip quickly, averting his eyes to the floor. He felt her hand clasp his and allowed her to tug him back onto the bed for the umpteenth time. Anger. All he felt was anger. But unlike the usual course of emotions, it did not travel to his fists, mostly because Mac wasn't there to beat up. Instead it traveled to his chest, clutching his heart , and making it nearly impossible to breath. How could she lie to him? All these years, all this time, lie after lie...? It wasn't right...

"How could you...?" he breathed.

There was yet another silence.

"I'm not human...."

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Mac stood near the door of his room, speechless, confused. It should've been a joy to hear that he and Terrence weren't really brothers; he had always hated the idea of being related in any way to that jerk. But now that he could hear this, now that it was true, he didn't know how to feel.

Maybe if Terrence had only been an adopted human kid, things would be different. But he wasn't. God, he was imaginary. It amazed Mac at how something that could be so monstrous could come from the sweet mind of his own mother.

Yet, strangely, Terrence didn't seem so monstrous at the moment. If anything, he sounded more human than he ever had in Mac's whole life. Hearing the conversation, his older brother sounded near the point of tears; it was something he couldn't even picture. For once, he didn't feel sorry for Mom having such a jerk of a son, but for Terrence for having such a liar of a mom.

Then again, she had lied to Mac too. Everything that she had lied to Terrence about, she had done the same to Mac.

No longer straining to hear the conversation, as he could hear it quite well now that his mother was upset and didn't try to keep her voice down, he slid down the wall next to the door, his mind racing with questions.

She had lied so many times. Mac's life was almost as much of a lie as Terrence's was, since he too had grown up believing that his brother was a regular human boy physically created from his parents.

He could still her them talking, and his stomach tightened. He felt like he was going to throw up.

"Terrence," Mac's mother finally began again, releasing a small sob from her throat. "When I was little, I wanted so badly, so badly, to have someone there for me. A big sister of a big brother. I wanted someone to plat with, someone to love whop would love me back, no matter what. It-its was so hard being an only child with no one else around...so when I was four, I decided I didn't want to be by myself anymore, so I created an imaginary friend."

Terrence raised his head slightly, wondering if he should seem interested or stay angry.

"He...he was everything I imagined an older brother to be: tall, strong, and brave... he was everything. And he loved me and I loved him. He looked so human, there were very few people who could tell he was imaginary. Everyone thought he was really my brother, and I liked it that way.

"Then, I started getting older, and he stayed the same all those years...soon, I was taking care of him instead of him taking care of me. But I couldn't let him go, so I kept him, even after I got married and after I had Mac. And we were a family."

Mac shifted in his spot, still eavesdropping. He felt a tear tug at the corner of his eye upon the mentioning of their dad....well, his dad. He was never Terrence's dad, and they both knew that now. It hurt him to think of how that must be hurting his brother: to find out that the people he thought were his family, weren't.

"Then, an-" Mom felt a sob rise up, but she managed to suppress it, hoping that the boy hadn't seen it. He had, but said nothing. "-an accident happened, and your father died. He was killed in that crash, but you weren't..."

He was shocked. Now he understood what she had said earlier.

"You were with him when he died."

Terrence jumped up immediately, opening his mouth to speak but the words couldn't make it passed his lips. He tried to say something, anything. She had never, NEVER told him that. And he couldn't remember. What if it was his fault, or what if he could've stopped the death from happening? He would never know now.

"You didn't remember," she was openly crying now, her worlds slurred together and broken by her intense crying. "You couldn't even remember who I was or who you were. You couldn't remember anything....I didn't even know imaginary fiends could get amnesia...I wanted to tell you. Oh God, I wanted to. But when you looked in the mirror, you were so convinced you were human...and I couldn't...I couldn't say anything to make you think otherwise. My heart wouldn't let me."

"So you....YOU....!" he started angrily.

"I lied to you," she finished for him. "I told you that you were Mac's older brother, that you were my son. I told you that you had a gland problem that caused you to seem ageless....Oh God, I'm so sorry..."

All this time?! What is it, six years, you've been lying to me!! Six fucking years!? My life has been a giant lie and all you can do is apologize?! You- Jesus, I'm not human!!"

Mac flinched as his brother screamed, the pain obvious in his voice. All those times he hated Terrence, and now, he regretted them, even if it was Terrence's fault.

"Terrence, please.." Mac heard his mother plead.

"No! No, I can't believe it! I won't believe it! You're lying, you have to be!!" he shrieked, kicking and punching the wall.

"Terrence, please, stop..." Mom begged, grabbing his arm once more. "There's-there's more to it. I'm not finished. I wish I was, but I'm not."

"What is it now!?" Terrence burst out, unable to control himself. "What? Are you too low on funds to take care of me anymore? Too sick of my beating up on your precious baby boy? Can't handle what you've created so now you have to get rid of me? Is that it? What else is there, MOM?!"

Mom said nothing, and Terrence stopped in his place.

Mac jumped up and bolted from his room, stopping in the doorway of his mother's bedroom. He stared in, waiting for the response, his eyes threatening to unleash the tears he'd barely managed to keep inside all this time.

"Oh God," Terrence breathed. "You are, aren't you? You're giving me up..."

Mom glanced up at him, eyes swollen and red, "I'm taking you to a foster home tomorrow morning. With the other imaginary friends..."

Terrence and Mac were in shock, disbelieving.

"I just can't keep you anymore..."

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He was an unbelievable mess, caught in the blackness of the room, surrounded by nothing more than his shattered material possessions and his utter unhappiness.

How could he have gone on for so long, never listening to that little voice that told him there was something wrong. That told him he was different. But he knew now; he knew all too well. Now he was one of the very freaks he had hated all those years. The ones he taunted and made fun of, because they weren't real. They weren't human.

Neither was he.

It made sense now though. Around the time Mac had turned two, Terrence had grown lonely, and attempted to crate an imaginary friend of his own. It resulted in less than nothing, and that's when he became angry. He became easily agitated. He became violent. It had only gotten worse.

Especially when Mac created Bloo.

Angry, he picked up a baseball close by and hurled it across the room, as he had done with every other possession . His room was completely torn apart, and there dents in the walls and trash on the floors and spitballs on the ceiling.

It tore him apart that Mac had witnessed the situation. Fine time for him to see his brother at his weakest, beaten down with so many lies and shit. And now he had to go live with that Bloo-thing and all of his stupid imaginary friends.

He sighed, swallowing whatever painful emotions that tried to work their way out. It was always better to suppress those kinds of things. Then just let the anger out, so that no one knew how you really felt. That was truly living, and that's what he did.

Then there was a knock.

It startled him, and he almost let out a small cry. Terrence got to his feet and cautiously opened the door. There were only two possibilities on who it could be, and if it was who he thought it was, he was going to slam the door shut, lock it, and never leave his room again.

"Terrence...?"

Terrence sighed inwardly of relief. No Mom, and that was what counted. Rather, it was Mac who stood outside of his bedroom, his hair still a wreck, and his eyes swollen and red, just like his mother's. His brother realized he had been crying too. But for what? He figured Mac would be happy that he was leaving...

Trying to keep his usual demeanor, he growled angrily, mostly hidden behind the door. "What the hell do YOU want? Come here to tell me that _your _mom's right and I should just go quietly and peaceful? Figures you'd side with her. She always liked you best..."

Mac shook his head. "Its nothing like that," he answered, looking at the floor. "Can I come into your room? Just in case Mom can hear us?"

Terrence rolled his eyes and opened the door wide enough for his small sibling to enter. "Fine," he groaned, though inside he was in a state of confusion. Before today, Mac never would have asked to enter his room, and Terrence never would have let him. There seemed to be a shift today, and he knew it was all because of his...Mac's mom's lying.

Terrence sat on the edge of his bed, watching awkwardly as Mac did the same. God, it felt so weird talking to his sibling instead of beating him up.

"So," he began, still sounding irritated. "What do you want? Just remember, you're stuck in MY room, so don't piss me off."

Mac swung his feet back and forth against the side of the bed. "I'm sorry ," he answered suddenly. "I'm sorry for what Mom did to you."

Terrence tried not to look or seem surprised. He failed. "You are?"

Mac nodded. "Yeah. What she did to you was wrong. Making you think you were someone...something else. Lying to you year after year. I'm almost as angry at her as you are. Its wrong...all of it. And what she's doing to you tomorrow."

Terrence stayed silent.

"We don't get to be brothers anymore, Terrence."

"We never were brothers, stupid," the older one growled, shifting his weight on the bed and lying down. "Don't you get it? We're not related, so we can't be brothers. Hell, we're just fucking roommates. That's all."

Mac looked like he was about to cry. He jumped up off of the bed and began to head for the door. Terrence was right. They had never been brothers, and never would be. What he thought was a family of three for the past God knows how many years, had been a mere family of two: a mother, a son, and some abusive roomie that was to be kicked out.

"Will you visit me, stupid?"

Mac turned around, forcing a smile. "Of course. Everyday. When I visit Bloo. And you can beat me up whenever you see me." He really didn't want to say that last part, but it would make his brother happy, and that's what mattered at the moment. Turning back around, he opened the door and proceeded to leave.

A creak from the bed was heard and something caught his shirt. He looked back, suddenly catching sight of Terrence gripping his shirt and grinning evilly. _Oh God..._

"Where do you think you're going? I wasn't finished yet," Terrence sneered, yanking his little brother back into his room and slamming the door shut.

Mac would emerge minutes later, covered in new bruises and spit, and feeling the effects of a very traumatizing wedgie.

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: Free will and all that rot. Example- Red didn't act as his creator, Terrence, created him to act, and Bloo doesn't always act as Mac wants him to. Get it, got it, good.

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	2. The Wary Hours

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed. You make my life worth living.

**Terra Incognita**

Chapter 2: The Wary Hours

_They can make things worse for me_

_Sometimes I'd rather die_

_They can tell me lots of things_

_But I can't see eye to eye_

_Bloodstains, The Offspring_

The drive was agonizing.

The entire time, Terrence had the horrible impression that Death was sitting in the car with them, making things ten times as awkward. Mac's mom hadn't said a word to him, nor Mac. She just went about driving, every now and then making a sound, signifying that she was trying not to cry. He knew she felt guilty. But he didn't care.

Mac on the other hand, looked somewhere between traumatized and excited. Terrence didn't have to guess that this was caused by the fact that he was leaving, and the fact that Mac now had permission from his mom to see Bloo every day. He had overheard the conversation today as he packed some of his things, and Mac's mom had decided that it wasn't fair to Mac that he couldn't see his best friend when she could go see Terrence. In fact, he later learned that Mac had given her the idea that Foster's was the best place to take him, instead of dropping him off at whatever place she had originally intended. In doing that, Mac had come clean about his daily visits to see his friend.

Terrence stared out the window, that ever-present look of malice and discontent plastered on his young face. Mom wanted to visit him in his new prison? He wouldn't let her. When you get rid of something, you usually never see it again. Why should this be any different?

While his 'brother' sat there moping, Mac was in a vortex of confusion. All these years of lying. Was he supposed to feel sad that his brother was really a figment of the imagination? As the one always on the receiving end of the fights, he should've been happy that Terrence was leaving and he wouldn't have to get beaten up any more. But he didn't. He felt miserable. He didn't think that Terrence was capable of being anything other than a monster, but after what had happened the night before, he thought otherwise.

Terrence had been so confused, so vulnerable. So human. When Mac had started to leave his room the night before, he was sure that Terrence was fight-free. But then the boy had let that anger thing get to him again, and he went brutal. Now Mac wasn't sure what to think of him. Was he an imaginary friend with hatred locked inside? Or was he a monster with a lingering emotion? The child just wasn't sure.

The car came to an eased halt and Mom and Mac got out, stopping on the sidewalk to wait for Terrence. He sat in his seat for a moment, looking through the glass at the place he would now call home. Something traveled up his spine; he thought it might've been sadness or something to that effect, but shrugged it off and got out.

He had to admit, it did have kind of a 'homey' feel and the building was pretty nice looking considering how OLD is must've been. The owner sounded crazy too.

Mac had explained a few things earlier about the place; things that included avoiding getting stuck on the roof and being wary of Herriman's love of rules. Of course, Terrence was already aware to stay away from Duchess, something he was quite certain he wouldn't do, simply because he didn't HAVE to. If he was going to have to live there, he might as well make the most of it. Living there....he felt sick just thinking about it.

They reached the door and with a hearty knock from Mac, waited in silence. Mac's mom put her arms around her would-be-son, but he swatted her away, unable to comprehend how she could betray him then pretend that she still cared.

The door creaked open and a lanky redhead greeted then, her thin shadow falling over Terrence. "Hi, welcome to Foster's. What can I...do...for...you........"She raised an eyebrow, her gaze set solely on the teenager standing in the doorway, and placed her hand on her hip. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

Terrence stared, chewing on his lip, and it was around that time that Mac stepped forward, his smile warm and comforting. "Hey Frankie. This is Terrence. He was the one who adopted Bloo a while back. Remember?"

Frankie thought for a moment, her eyes burning a hole right through Terrence's soul. He shuddered absent-mindedly, hating every minute of the introduction. He was never good at first impressions.

"Oh yeah." the girl realized suddenly, somewhat excited by the memory. "I remember now...what's he doing here?"

This time, Mom stepped up, looking as though she were trying to avoid eye contact. "Maybe we should go inside. I'm Mac's mother. I have....a friend to drop off..."

Frankie shot all three a questionable look, but led the way inside. Terrence, however, hesitated. So this would be his home? God, it was so big; there must've been at least a million rooms.

As soon as Mac had entered, a familiar shriek could be heard above everything else; Bloo's battle cry erupted as he raced down the steps, ignoring Herriman's shout for him to stop running and screaming and such. He leapt off of the stairs, slamming into his small friend, and they fell to the ground.

Mr. Herriman, who had coincidently been hopping by when Bloo had begun his little "welcome back, Mac" routine, was less than amused and hopped over where the blue friend and Mac lay on the ground, laughing as friends tend to do. As expected, he started his daily scolding.

Frankie sighed, turning her attention back to Mom and Terrence. "I'm Frankie. You said you had a friend to drop off?"

"Hey, Mac," Bloo replied, ignoring Herriman altogether. "Why are your mom and brother here? Are they trying to adopt or something? "Cuz that just wouldn't make any sense. Unless they want to re-claim me?" He added the last part hopefully.

"Actually," Mac answered, his bright attitude falling somewhat. "My mom, she's dropping ...someone off. HER imaginary friend....it's a long story."

"So make it short," Bloo ordered. Mac paid no attention.

Mom nodded, her gaze shifting from Frankie to Terrence, then back to Frankie again. "Yes, I have an imaginary friend I _need _to drop off here..." She glanced back at Terrence with her soft eyes, staring into his. But unlike her gentle, saddened gaze, he glared, hard, hatred and betrayal swirled together in two small puddles of black. She had no choice but to look away.

"Well, don't be so rude, Miss Francis," Mr. Herriman lost all interest in Mac and Bloo, and hopped over, adjusting his monocle. "Let's get the newest addition all set and comfortable. I'm sure you wouldn't mind giving the tour," he replied, his suggestion sounding much more like an order than anything else.

Frankie glared.

Mr. Herriman didn't seem to notice. "Now, where is the poor creature?" he regarded Mac's mother, waiting for the woman to speak up.

She didn't however, unable to allow Terrence's name from her lips. Tears began to swell up in her eyes again, and she looked away. There was a pause, an awkwardness no one seemed capable of fighting off.

The tension was almost unbearable for the friend in question, and he stood there staring, waiting for the woman to shove him forward with a "take him."

That didn't happen.

Suddenly, Mac came forward to the rescue once again, waving his arm up in the air for attention. He stopped in front of Terrence and gestured towards him. "This is Terrence. He's the one my mom was talking about, and he needs a place to stay."

Mr. Herriman coughed slightly, the way an old man tries to accomplish in a subtle way, but ends up chocking on his own flem instead. "Certainly not," he answered. "This is a home for imaginary friends, not a daycare center. The thought of a human running about the house, not to mention sleeping, eating, and above all, LIVING at Foster's is quite preposterous."

Frankie glared again, and this time, the large rabbit saw it. He immediately coughed again, and added, "With exception to Miss Francis of course, who should be getting back to her respected chores."

She did no such thing, growling back at him, "I'm trying to get the situation figured out. Besides, he needs to get settled in, and who better to do help with that than me."

"ME!" Bloo shrieked, but he backed down under Frankie's hardened gaze.

"But he is an imaginary friend," Mac pleaded. "My mom even has a picture of when she was little and he's in there! How can there be any better proof than that?" He grabbed his mother's purse, ignoring her gasp from surprise at his sudden action and pulled out the photo, flashing it in front of Mr. Herriman and Frankie. "My mom created him when she was just a little girl. He's supposed to look human."

He knew it would come in handy to have mom bring the picture, just in case they didn't, and obviously wouldn't, believe that Terrence was an imaginary friend. He just looked too human to pass off for anything else.

Frankie took the photograph from his small hands and inspected it carefully. Finally looking up, she smiled kindly and replied, "Welcome to Foster's."

"So you believe us, Frankie?" Mac seemed ecstatic. "Thank God. I was almost afraid you wouldn't." He turned his attention to Terrence, who still hadn't said a word, and by this time, was on the verge of doing something drastic. Maybe running away forever.

Mr. Herriman took the picture from Frankie and gave it a good inspection himself. This was followed by a quick look at Terrence. The rabbit adjusted his monocle once more and observed the boy, hopping around him in a quick circle.

Terrence was suddenly very self-conscious. Just having anyone look at him was weird enough, but to have someone do it simply to make sure you were what everyone claimed you were was downright unreal. He shifted, slouched, and lowered his head, his eyes cast on the carpet before him.

Maybe if that stupid rabbit said he wasn't an imaginary friend, Mac's mom would have no choice but to take him home, and then he could go on with making everyone's lives a living hell. It was the only thought he had to help him go on for the moment.

"Very well," Mr. Herriman finally replied, all skeptical thoughts gone. "I'm sure he will make a fine addition to Foster's and someone might adopt him before anyone knows it," he glanced at Terrence again. "Or perhaps not. Ms. Francis, please do not forget to give him a nice tour of the house and show him where he will be sleeping." That said, he hopped off, already scolding someone for whatever reason.

Frankie sighed, relieved that he had finally gone. She turned to Terrence and the smile became present on her face once more. "Well,...what was your name again?"

Terrence couldn't even blink let alone say his own name. It was unbelievable. Everything was just so unbelievable. Within a measly 12 hours, his life had been shattered, his home and his family were taken from him, and everything he had known was one giant slur of lies. He shuddered violently, still staring at the floor, and wrapped his arms around himself, feeling suddenly very cold.

"Hey, are you okay?" Frankie asked, waving her hand gently in front of his face. She looked at Mac's mom. "How long have you had him? I know a lot of times people like to keep their imaginary friends, but if you're just giving him up now, he could be traumatized."

"I've had him....since I was four..."

Pause, then, "wow."

"Hold it, hold it, hold it," Bloo interrupted the 'conversation.' "You're not honestly going to let HIM live here, are you? Are you insane?! You know all those cuts and bruises Mac has every time he comes to visit?! That's from Terrence! He's a psy-" The blob was silenced by none other than his best friend. Mac was quick to clamp a hand over Bloo's mouth, turning anything else he had to say into mere muffles.

"Don't worry about it, Frankie," Mac offered. "Bloo's crazy. Must be all that sugar."

"Ooookay...." Frankie eyed them strangely. She turned back to Mac's mom again and told her heartily, "Don't worry. Terrence will be in good care here. I'll make sure of it."

"Would it be okay if I, maybe, could visit him?" Mom questioned, her eyes gleaming with hope.

Frankie did a strange half-shrug and, still smiling, replied, "Of course. But he can be adopted if you're not around. This is a foster home, after all." She then looked at Terrence, who jumped at the sight of such a kind-hearted face. "Are you ready for the tour?"

He shrugged, not saying a word. A hand touched his shoulder, and he pushed it away as he had done earlier, knowing full well who it belonged to.

"I'll visit you as often as I can, okay sweetie? I love you. I really do..."

A cold chill caught his body, and he felt like he would throw up. The room was spinning, the ceiling was caving in, and the world was dead. He felt the anger squirm back into his system, gnawing and tearing at his insides. It hurt.

He answered, never turning to face the woman, never caring how she would feel. The words made her cry out and leave as quickly as possible; they made every other being in the room cringe, and both Bloo and Frankie stood in complete shock. Only Mac could understand why he said it.

"I HATE you."

The silence after became much worse than what the drive had proved to be.

_--- --- _

_---Lost Memories---_

"I had a nightmare last night," she said, lying down on her bed, her head hanging over the edge so that she could stare at him.

He mumbled something, absent-mindedly ignoring her every word. She made a face, not knowing what could be more important than what she had to say. He was SUPPOSED to listen.

"The house is on fire," she replied.

He remained motionless, still staring off, mumbling to himself.

"Boys are stupid."

He mumbled again, louder this time, but she was oblivious to what he had said.

Finally, when she had had enough, a small scream emerged from her lips. "TERRENCE!"

He jerked his head, suddenly snapping out of his trance. "What? What's wrong? Is the house on fire?! Are you okay?" He stopped himself from questioning further when he noticed the look on her young face. It was intimidating the way she looked at him sometimes when he wasn't paying attention.

He cleared his throat and spoke, "Um, sorry. What were you saying? It was something about a boy, right? ...Or a monster....or...what?"

She rolled her eyes. "For your information, I was talking about the nightmare I had last night, but know that you mention it, there is this boy I like..."

Terrence sat there, still staring off into space. "Yeah? Who is it this time?...Oh wait! It's not that stupid football player is it? Ike Johnson?! That guy is a mega jerk! Plus, he sucks, as both a football player and a person in general!!"

She stared off lazily, looking at him, stars and hearts shooting out from her eyes, metaphorically that is. "No," she replied shyly. "He's...he's different. He's special...And I want to be with him forever... and I'm hoping he feels the same way about me...?"

Terrence slumped in his seat. "Well, as long as he doesn't ruin any of our plans. I don't want to see you marrying some asshole, ya know. Then its like, we'll both be married to him or something...Is he, like, a movie star or whatever? Is he even your age? 12 is too young to fall in love anyway....you should be doing twelve year old things...not falling in love with guys that aren't your age..."

She thought a moment. "Well, he's more or less my age...something like that. Besides, its not like age matters, especially when its true love."

"I guess..."

"Will _you _love me forever?"

"Of course," he answered, smiling at her lovingly. "Will you love me forever?" He said this somewhat jokingly, not expecting an answer.

She reached over, hugging his head, and resting her cheek against his forehead. He wanted to ask her what she was doing, but couldn't quite get the words out. So he stayed silent, listening to her hum a strange little song, and finally answer, "'till the day I die. I'll never let you go."

--- ---

He had to admit, the house was indeed one of the strangest places he had ever had the opportunity to see. The décor was what he had expected for such a run down-looking, old place, but the creatures he saw...damn, it was unbelievable.

This Wilt-or whatever his name was- person was one of the weirdest looking things he had ever, EVER seen in his entire life. When Frankie had first introduced the two, he couldn't help but notice how _tall _the thing was, towering a good forty feet above him. Well, maybe not THAT tall, but he was still pretty up there.

The things he would see later were even weirder.

The upside to what Terrence considered to be one of the most unfair ordeals in all of his life was that, beyond any logical thinking he could manage, Mac had actually stayed with him during the tour. The poor boy he beat up time and time again; pulverized, threw, punched, kicked, and so on, had actually stayed with him to make sure he was okay.

There were times, he felt justified in hitting the kid. Mac could be so naïve sometimes.

They passed door after door, each time with Wilt explaining what was behind most of them, floor after floor, the stairs becoming more and more dreadful every time. Terrence felt his legs start to ache with soreness, and he pleaded silently that the tour was almost over.

While he was sure the tour was just marvelous to listen to (as if), he was still far too depressed to pay attention. Maybe it was his words that were getting to him, rather than the entire situation for the moment. He knew he had hurt her, but she deserved it, didn't she? She deserved everything he could throw at her. She deserved to have her family ripped from her, just as he had his ripped away. In his mind, in all of his logical, she deserved to be alone. Just like he was.

In his thoughts, he hadn't noticed that a rather frightening shadow had stepped out into the hallway, watching him closely as many of the other friends scampered away, unwilling to be in the certain path of fire.

It took him a full moment to notice that Wilt had stopped, and by then he had already gone walking into the tall creature's thin legs. Before he could utter a complaint, a familiar voice rang out, sending a series of shudders racing up his spine.

"Terrence," it cooed, the thick accent almost liquefying in his ears, He trembled, remembering just how disgusted it made him feel. "I never would have thought," the voice sounded almost as disgusted as he felt.

"Duchess, what are you doing out of your room?" Bloo groaned loudly. "The one time you decide to come out, and I have to be around to hear you complain about how much better you are than us. Let's get this over with then. Go ahead and tell us what a dump this place and yadda yadda yadda so we can just not listen and ignore you..."

Duchess made a face, though it was slightly hard to see on her already distorted expression. "For your information, I simply came out to see if it was true." Her gaze was still on Terrence, who still hadn't stood up. He lay on the floor, leaning back on his elbows. He glared. Duchess glared back.

"If I had known you were coming, I would have requested that they put locks on the doors," she hissed, watching with hidden delight when he didn't say anything. "I can't believe that they would allow a little hoodlum like you to go running about in and out of rooms, stealing things as you please."

Wilt opened his mouth to speak, to politely ask Duchess to refrain from speaking, but she shot him a look and he kept his mouth shut. She turned back to Terrence. He had by this point, turned a horrid shade of red, and bit down hard, drawing blood. The cut was very visible on his lower lip when he jumped up and pointed an accusing finger at her.

He had opened his mouth, but nothing came out. No comebacks, no curses, no screaming. God, how he wanted to. He wanted to let it all out, make his throat burn and ache with the unleashing of his thoughts. He wanted to scream and scream and scream until his throat was raw and torn, until he couldn't speak, until someone had had enough of it and killed him.

God, how he wanted too, but he couldn't. The words, his voice; they just weren't there for him to let go of. It was as if they had been torn right out of his body, to make sure that he suffered in silence. He felt something in his eye, blurring his already hazy vision, but he blinked it away and looked from Duchess to the end of the hallway. It was then he realized there was something over his mouth, blocking all would-be verbalized thoughts from coming out. He realized it was Mac.

Mac clung to his back, one arm wrapped around Terrence's shoulder, and the other curved around his head to cover his lips. He shivered against Terrence's body, and for a moment, the boy seemed to be crying.

Terrence couldn't understand it. Mac must have thought that he was really going to scream at her. But had he covered his 'brother's' mouth for Terrence's sake, or for Duchess'? Why would he do it for either? Neither of the two were nice to him. Maybe it was just so he wouldn't have to hear it.

Gently, his eyes back on Duchess, he pulled Mac's hand away from his mouth, pulled the child over his shoulder and set him carefully on the ground next to him. He didn't know why he had been so careful in doing this, but it wasn't something he felt the need to think about for very long. His gaze never left Duchess, and her gaze never left him.

Wilt shook his head quickly, snapping out of whatever silence he had been locked in and finally replied, that smile back on his scarlet features, "Would you like to continue with the tour, Terrence? There's lots more to see."

Terrence didn't answer, but when he felt Mac's hand wrap around his to lead him away, he didn't protest.

As the group faded in sight down the corridor, Duchess averted her eyes from the boy and slipped back into her room, silently, pondering things that no one would ever know of.

--- ---

Terrence didn't thank Mac for what he had done. No, that would be a sign of weakness; it would be admitting that he did need him, and if Mac found that out, Terrence would never live it down. As soon as Duchess could no longer be seen, he yanked his hand away from the small boy, "Ech! Get away from me!" and stomped off ahead of him, leaving Mac with his best friend Bloo.

Mac seemed to have expected this, since he immediately began talking to Bloo as if none of it had ever happened. But, the teenager did feel somewhat bad, even though he would never admit it to himself, let alone anyone else. He wondered if Wilt realized that he was practically talking to himself, since he was mostly lost in his own thoughts. He couldn't help it; everything was just so....messed up.

Behind him, as they headed up the stairs to another floor (Terrence had lost track of just how many floors the house had) , he could hear Bloo yammering on and on and on, probably complaining. He remembered now, after months of the apartment being Bloo-free, that the blue blob liked to talk and complain. Actually, maybe it wasn't complain... whatever it was, it annoyed the hell out of Terrence. He felt the urge to hurt someone compelling him.

"Aw, Mac. Your mom's plan to get rid of Terrence is great!" Bloo remarked, doing anything but complaining. "There's just one thing I don't understand: I don't get it."

Mac sighed.

"I mean, really," Bloo continued. "Sure, it gets him out of your house, but what about Foster's? The jerk is gonna kill us all. And how did you two actually get Frankie and Herriman to believe that he's an imaginary friend?"

"Because he is," Mac answered, becoming frustrated. He rubbed one of his temples.

"Yeah, real funny, Mac," Bloo chuckled. "No, seriously. I want to be in on the plan here. So spill it out already. I'm your best friend. I have a right to know."

"_We'll be best friends forever..."_

Terrence shook his head suddenly. Those words...he hated it when someone said something that sparked off some weird memory. They were memories now, he knew. Not just something random as he had originally thought all those years. They always seem to resurface more when Mac and Bloo were around. They would always say something to set it off.

He had to put a stop to this.

"Hey!" Terrence snarled, turning his head to glare at them viciously. "Shut up!! I wouldn't want to have to beat the crap outta you in front of all your stupid friends!"

Wilt stopped in mid-sentence, pointing one of the other rooms to him -Terrence of course wasn't paying attention-and turned to look at the three. "I'm sorry, Terrence, but threatening other friends and quests is not okay. Its something that can get you kicked out, and then where would you go?"

Terrence shrugged, scowling. "I dunno...away from you. Just show me where I haveta sleep. I don't want to see more of this stupid house than I need to," he hissed, his eyes focused on the scarlet friend before him. In truth, he hadn't meant to say it, but he was glad that he did.

Wilt stared at him, un-amused, but doing a fantastic job at hiding it. He nodded, and they began heading down the steps, taking a total u-turn.

Terrence followed, in wonder of what his room would look like. By the looks of all those imaginary friends, he would probably be sharing one with a couple others. Why did this sound so familiar...?

Joeh. It finally came to him. His old friend Joeh, who had been hauled away the previous year and sent to an asylum for practicing Satanism. He had killed so many animals, hurt so many other people, set things on fire. So they picked him up and sent him away.

Now Terrence knew how he felt to some extent. The big difference, other than the fact that Joeh was human and Terrence wasn't, was that Joeh didn't have a family. He didn't have anyone to leave behind.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Terrence was thrown out of his thoughts, finding that they had stopped and Wilt was standing over him. He rubbed his forehead, and finally said, "yeah, I guess. So where's it at already?"

Wilt opened the door to the room they were next to, revealing its contents. He grinned merrily. "You'll be staying with us: Bloo, Eduardo, Coco, and myself. Since you used to live with Bloo, Mr. Herriman thought it would be easier for you to get settled in if you stayed with someone you knew."

Terrence stared in. They didn't seem to realize that he and Bloo hadn't, didn't, and would never, EVER get along.

It was strange. When Wilt had opened that door, Terrence had expected to see his own room there. The one he had just the day before. What was really inside threw him off suddenly. His stomach began to ache; his head throbbed; he felt numb all over. _This isn't my home_, he thought. _This isn't my home. I don't recognize this....oh God... I feel sick...I feel sick I feel sick I wanna go home...I feel sick..._

He glanced back at Bloo, then back at Wilt, and felt the vomit flow up his throat.

"Oh man!" Bloo shrieked, jumping behind Mac. "That's DISGUSTING!! God, I'd hate to be the one to clean that mess up! Gross...!"

Mac immediately rushed to Terrence's side as the older boy sank to his knees, and then to his elbows, covering his mouth as the taste lingered strongly. He closed his eyes tight, the excess vomit clinging to his tongue, making him want to vomit again.

Tears began to swell up in his eyes. It burned. Everything burned. He fell over on his side, just barely missing his own puddle of chuck , and lay there, still closing his eyes, still covering his mouth, still feeling the fire from his own stomach acid.

"Terrence! Terrence, are you okay?" Mac knelt next to him, placing his small hand on his shoulder. "Wilt, go get Mr. Herriman...or Frankie! Yeah, get Frankie. She'll know what to do!"

"Alright, Mac. Don't panic. I'll be right back. I promise!" Wilt answered, sprinting down the hallway, and several friends stuck their heads out of the rooms as he ran by, yelling, "Frankie! Frankie!"

Bloo moved up next to Mac, and both stared at Terrence. He was still a wreck, and suddenly vomited again, then dropped his head down on the floor, accidentally right into the new pile. Mac was quick to grab his shoulder and began to drag him a short ways from where he had just thrown up .

It became all too obvious that Terrence wasn't going to try and get up, and he was still too heavy for Mac to pull on his own. "Bloo, I need your help. Help me drag him into the bedroom. If we can get him into one of the beds, he'll probably feel a little better."

Bloo made a face. "What? No way. This is Terrence we're talking about here. Let him help himself, Mac. Remember all the things he'd done to you? All the things he's done to us? All the times he's beaten us up and hurt you and lied to you? C'mon, Mac. Forget it, okay?" Bloo turned away, hearing Terrence groan every other second or so. "Besides, you said so yourself: he's not even really your brother ."

Mac shot him a look of his own. "Just because he's not my brother doesn't mean I don't care about him, Bloo. Your not thinking of all the good things he's done for us, like when we were little and he'd take us trick-or-treating. Or when he would watch cartoons with us and tell us how they did all that stuff and how no matter how many times Daffy Duck got blown up, he'd always be back again. C'mon, Bloo. _We _need your help."

Bloo gave in. Mac was right, after all. Before something in Terrence had become violent, he had been a pretty decent guy. He had been nice and protective. Just like a real big brother. So Bloo nodded and grabbed hold of poor teenager, and the two began to drag him into the bedroom.

Terrence had long since passed out, hoping he'd never wake up.

--- ---

--- ---

A/N: Hopefully, this is as bad as the chapters get. I had an idea for this one, but it kind of went flushie flushie down the toilet.

Ike Johnson - I had a crush named Mike Thompson in school a while ago. He too was a football player with a really shitty personality.

Vomit is one of my favorite words. _Vooooooommmmiiiiiittt...._

_--- ---_


	3. Hatred

Disclaimer: Nope….I still don't own anything….wait…wait…maaaaaaayyyybeeeee….nope, still nothing.

'Cept Rollover…but that's nothing to be proud of.

A/N: Oh yes, there was an itsy bitsy typo in the last chapter. The song "Bloodstains" is actually from Agent Orange. I just happened to be listening to the Offspring (my babies) as I was writing the lyrics down. My bad. I apologize.

--- ---

**Terra Incognita**

--- ---

Chapter 3: Hatred

--- ---

_I feel so mad_

_I feel so angry_

_I feel so callous_

_So lost, confused again_

_I feel so cheap_

_So used, unfaithful_

_Let's start over_

_I Feel So,, Boxcar Racer_

--- ---

If there was ever a time he needed someone, it was now. He NEEDED someone to save him, to yank him from the dreams he had where everything had changed and he no longer had a place to call home. To take him away from reality.

But looking around in the darkness, he could find no one. The air around him was thin, the world was black, and the heart beating in his chest was lonely. He felt it ache and cry out, and did everything he possibly could to suppress it, hoping someone would just come to him on their own, without knowing of his pain.

But who? There was hardly a person he knew off who didn't already know of his outstanding reputation. Even the kids at school knew of how he was, and either kept their distance or beat him up to where he was a pile of bleeding, bruised mass on the ground.

It became all too clear at that moment, as he sat in the black, gripping at his chest. No one would come for him. No one saw any reason to; he wasn't the kind of person anyone would want to save. No, he was Terrence, the violent little slacker who would never amount to anything.

Terrence, the bully.

Terrence, the jerk.

Terrence, the troublemaker, the brat, the liar.

Terrence, the hated.

He was never Terrence, the great older brother. Terrence, the protector, Terrence, the friend. It was always something bad. Everything his name was ever affiliated with was negative. And how could it not be that way.

If there was anything he realized at that moment, it was exactly what he had always seen in himself. And what he saw was what everyone else thought of him. Whenever someone called him an asshole or a violent little child, he believed it; he became it.

And now, he was alone.

Feeling the oncoming onslaught of sickening emotions, he stood up, giving himself a good slap to the face and shaking it off. Eyes wide suddenly, he saw before him the images. Things he had forgotten.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to remember…

_-"Look what I made! His name is Bloo!"-_

_- "We're gonna be bestest friends forever!"-_

_-"He's my friend!"-_

_-"He's my friend!"-_

_-"We'll be friends forever and ever and ever!!"-_

_--"I hate them so fucking much…"--_

"_I hate him…" Terrence grumbled, staring off towards Mac's room, where a rumbling of giggles and happy little screams could be heard between two friends. "I hate him so much…"_

"_Don't say that," Mom scolded, gently smacking him on the back of his head, then went back to making dinner. "You don't hate him. You're just angry."_

"_No," Terrence grumbled, rubbing the spot where she had hit him. "I really hate him. It's not fair. Why does he get to be so freaking special or whatever? What makes him so lucky?"_

"_Terrence, what are you talking about? Of course you're special. You both are."_

_Terrence shook his head, getting more and more frustrated. "No! No we're not! We're not the same! How come I can't have a stupid imaginary friend and he can? I tried to make one so many stupid times, but he tries once and he comes up with that stupid Bloo thing or whatever he calls it!"_

_Mom smiled, putting her hand on the boy's shoulder, trying to comfort him. "Terrence, you're a little old to have an imaginary friend, don't you think?"_

"_No."_

"_Look, sometimes it just takes a little longer for some kids to develop their imagination. You're just a late bloomer, that's all. I'm sure that soon, you'll be able to come up with an imaginary friend all your own," his mother reassured, smiling even more when Terrence smiled back._

"_Yeah, I guess," Terrence decided. "Maybe I can make up one that will beat up Mac for me! That would be awesome! Or maybe….I don't even need to make one up…Maybe I can steal one…"_

_That said, he trotted off towards his little brother's room, his mother paying no mind to what he had said; she was only happy that the conversation had ended before she was forced to tell him the truth._

_He kicked the door open, watching with unbridled glee as the both Mac and Bloo froze in place, stopping whatever it was they had been doing. He grinned malevolently, and without warning, lunged at the tiny Bloo. _

_Bloo shrieked and tried to jump out of the way, but Terrence was quicker and grabbed him in one swift motion. Mac yelled something, but Terrence was too preoccupied to pay any attention to him. When the small child dove at him, clinging tightly to his leg, Terrence kicked the three year old away, watching as he rolled across the floor and began sobbing. _

_Terrence turned his attention back to Bloo, who, in his young state, had started crying as well. "Looks like you're my imaginary friend now, Bloo-thing! That means you gotta do whatever I say and I say, go beat up Mac!"_

_Bloo didn't even acknowledge what the older boy had said; he simply sat in Terrence's grip and sobbed. Terrence scowled, raising an eyebrow, and then proceeded to shake the blob as hard as he could. "What the hell is wrong with this thing? All it does is cry and stuff! Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!!"_

_The recent shakings and screaming only made Bloo and Mac cry harder and louder. Terrence covered one of his ears, agitated, and finally threw the small friend at Mac, watching the two tumble into the open closet behind them. _

_Angry and desperate, he slammed the closet door shut and stood against it so that they wouldn't be able to get out. "There! Now, if that stupid Bloo doesn't start bein' my best friend and listening to me, I'm gonna make sure you stay locked in this stupid closet forever!"_

_The two didn't refrain from crying._

"_I'll give ya to the count of three…one…THREE-"_

"_Terrence!! What on Earth are you doing?!"_

_Terrence whirled around, catching sight of Mom in the doorway, her hands on her hips, and her eyes blazing with anger and disapproval._

_He tried to act fast. "We-we were just playing a game! We're wrapping a present for your birthday and we didn't want you to see it! They made me do it!" Not fast enough._

_Mom stomped over to him and grabbed his ear, yanking him out of the room. "I can't believe you would sink this low, Terrence. Honestly, trying to take away your three-year-old brother's friend? Why can't you act more like an adult?"_

_She continued talking, but Terrence wasn't paying attention anymore. He only glared at Mac and Bloo, watching the two boys scamper out of the closet, wipe away their tears, and start playing again. As his mom led him into his room, he heard one of them, between giggles, reply, "Terrence is stupid anyway."_

"_Terrence is stupid anyway"_

"_Terrence…stupid…"_

"Am I really stupid?" He asked himself aloud when the memory had faded away. His conclusion came to 'yes.' He was stupid. Stupid for wanting to take Bloo in the first place (he had forgotten all about that incident, but not the punishment that came afterwards), stupid for trusting his mom, stupid for…everything.

As he stood there, wallowing in his personal sea of self-pity, he realized that his body was beginning to ache, his throat more than anything else. It burned, Terrence guessed from throwing up earlier, but the rest of him only felt sore.

"He looks kinda weird," a voice began, so close that Terrence felt his ears scream in protest. "I didn't know you started putting up humans here."

"Will you get away from him? You're probably screaming in his ear. See? He looks like he's in pain. Go back to your room or something…" another voice came, much more feminine, and familiar. She sounded unbelievably annoyed. He wondered if he was back in the house, awake finally after what seemed like hours of watching that damned home movie of a memory. Of course, if he was awake, then why was everything so dark? He decided it was only because he was so unwilling to open his eyes. If he didn't open his eyes, he wouldn't have to face the house weirdos; if he didn't wake up, he wouldn't have to worry about being alone.

"Does Frankie want Eduardo to go?" a third voice chimed in. Terrence made a face. All of these 'voices' were beginning to make him sick. The fact that they sounded so close made him nervous, as he couldn't see anyone in the darkness.

"No, Eduardo," the feminine voice replied anxiously, "but why don't you see what's taking Mac and Wilt so long? They've been downstairs for almost a half an hour."

Mac! Mac was still around, somewhere. Even if Terrence found that the boy's sole purpose was to entertain him, it was still a familiar face in such strange surroundings.

"Si, Frankie."

It seemed 'Frankie's' was the only voice left, making Terrence ten times more nervous than he had initially felt; she sounded pretty and while Terrence knew she was familiar in some way, he couldn't quite place exactly who she was.

"Oh no, he looks like he's going to throw up again… what did I do with the bucket? Damn, I left it near Duchess's room!…How did I manage to do that?"

He heard her footsteps as she ran off, realizing that he was finally alone and for the first time since he had entered Foster's, relaxed, feeling the soreness in his body drift away. It wouldn't last long.

There was a raspy breathing against his face; hot breath hit him every other second or so, the uncomfortable feeling that someone was directly in front of him, watching him, staring into his soul and ready to rip it out.

Terrence tried to ignore it, keeping his eyes tightly closed and not moving a muscle. It kept staring at him, breathing, rasping, burping every now and then. It was too much for any person to stand.

He opened his eyes, unable to take it any longer, and immediately screamed.

"Wow, you have a big mouth. And lotsa crooked teef," the first voice from earlier sounded, childishly.

There above him, floated a creature, flapping one odd looking wing as the boy continued screaming. It darted around his head for a moment before landing on the edge of the bed and stared.

Terrence's vocal chords were receiving possibly the worst beating they had ever had

"Wow, you really do look human," the creature replied, hovering steadily over Terrence. He stared in to the boy's eyes with his own endless white orbs and grinned, revealing an astonishing row of jagged, crooked, pointed teeth. "You have the same shaped head as I do. Cool."

Terrence sunk into the bed as best he could, trying to get as far away from the floating thing as possible. 'What the hell are you?" he managed to ask, rather rudely.

"Whoa, ya better be careful. Don't let Wilt or Mr. Herriman catch you cussing…they HATE that, human," the creature eyed him strangely, looked over towards the door, and his confused expression quickly turned into that of fear and surprise. He bolted away from the bed as numerous footsteps could be heard, followed by a loud yelling sound that nearly punctured Terrence's ears for the tenth or so time. He too turned his head, catching sight of someone running into the bedroom, caught in an obvious frenzy, before yanking the covers over himself.

"Rollover! I thought I told you to stay in your room!" the voice yelped, and Terrence realized the owner was female, angry, and potentially dangerous. "I don't need you scaring any more friends, especially when they're sick! Now go!"

The creature's, now known as Rollover, voice promptly followed, fading down the hallway. "What? Already? But I wanted to ogle the human! Alright, alright! I'm sorry! Yeesh. Frankie, you need to calm down. I was just curious!"

So that's who it was: Frankie, the redhead. He laughed at himself for not remembering that. She was the only Frankie he'd ever met in his entire…'human life.' Frankie, the girl who had been so kind to him upon entering the house. He tried to remember what she looked like once more, and a rise of heat overtake his body. He felt himself blush and automatically clamped his hands down over his flushed cheeks, just in case she was still in the room. Despite the fact the covers were still over his head.

The covers were quickly yanked away. "Hey, good evening," Frankie suddenly appeared before him, smiling.

"Terrence stared, still wired from the scare. "Eve-evening? I don't…. I only passed out for a little while then."

"Actually, you've been unconscious since yesterday," Frankie informed. "We were going to try and wake you for dinner last night, and for breakfast this morning, but Mac insisted we let you get some rest. Glad to see you're awake now. He was really worried about you."

Terrence sat up, hoping that red in his face had disappeared, but the warmth in his cheeks proved otherwise. Hopefully, she wouldn't notice. "M-Mac? Oh, oh yeah. Did he leave already?" He felt the urge to say something rude; he wasn't sure what it would be, but he felt he had to say something. Still, he gulped it down, trying to appear somewhat caring. "

Frankie sat down on the side of the bed, forcing Terrence to feel a bit queasy. "No, he's downstairs, getting you some water with the guys. He even spent the night, he was so worried. They're going to fix up your bed in a little while, just waiting until you woke up. Your nerves must be really worked up, to get sick so suddenly."

Terrence scratched his head, looking a little sheepish. _Oh God, she probably had to be the one to clean up my puke. Oh yeah, Terr, GREAT first impression!_ "Um, well, I have these allergies- See I'm allergic to old stuff- No, I meant, um…Mac did it!"

Frankie stared at him, laughing slightly at his nervousness. "Its okay, you can relax. Wilt didn't mind too much cleaning up the mess. And Mac explained the situation to me. Ya know, about your mother and how she lied to you. I just want you to know that everything's going to be okay here."

Terrence was warm all over. She pitied him. HIM, of all people. He grunted , and rolled over on his side, back to her. "I don't care," he growled, crossing his arms. "So she dumped me off here. So what? I can do just fine without anybody anyway."

Frankie's smile disappeared. "Is that so? What about Mac? After what he's done to get you settled in?" She sighed, standing up, and headed for the door. Before finally leaving, she replied, "Mac told me you didn't like people to think you cared. He was right: it is all just an act, isn't it?"

Terrence didn't answer, listening to her footsteps as she wandered away. The warmth had disappeared and a horrible coldness took its place, sending him snuggling back under the blankets. "St-Stupid girl. What does she know? Nothing about nothing. I don't need anyone. I don't need stupid Mac, or stupid Mom, or-or stupid Foster's. I don't need anything."

--- ---

"Oh, so that's what happened," Bloo smiled. "Who would've thought? Terrence: an imaginary friend. I never would've guess."

Mac rolled his eyes. "Look, Bloo, I don't want you teasing Terrence about this. Its bad enough as it is. I don't even want you mentioning it to him. Okay?"

Bloo grinned mischievously. "Okay, Mac, I promise…" he giggled inwardly as they continued down one of the many halls towards the bedroom.

Mac abruptly stopped in his tracks, glaring at his friend, not paying any attention to the fact that Wilt nearly tripped over him and almost dropped the glass of water he held. He pointed at Bloo, trying to seem intimidating, but not accomplishing much.

"I'm serious, Bloo! Terrence is already upset about this! He doesn't need you making things worse!"

Bloo backed down. "Fine, alright, I won't say anything about it to him." Mac gave a sigh of relief and the group began walking again. Still, Bloo wasn't satisfied.

"Can you at least explain something to me though. I want answers," he finally replied as they stopped nearby the room. "I mean, I don't get it, Mac. Why are you standing up for him? He's a jerk. He's always been a jerk and he always will be a jerk. He beats you up all the time, gives you wedgies, spits in your cereal, pees on your clothes, and cusses at you, and for some weird reason, you feel sorry for him? Why?"

Mac opened his mouth to reply when Frankie stepped out of the bedroom, partially closing the door. "Mac, are you sure your mom created Terrence? If what Bloo was saying downstairs yesterday is true, about him beating you up and giving you all those bruises, then he's more like an extreme-a-saur or something. You were definitely right about the whole emotions thing. He really doesn't like anyone to think he's soft."

Wilt made a face, careful not to spill the water. "He pees on your clothes?"

"And spits in your cereal?" Eduardo added, looking equally disgusted.

Mac grimaced, walking passed Frankie and towards the door. "Look, you have to understand. Things are different now. Just two days ago, he used to have a family. Now he has no one, like every other imaginary friend in this house. Maybe if we give him some time, he can change for the better."

"…he can change for the better."

Terrence winced. If he hadn't thought people had disliked the way he was before, he did now. Of course, he couldn't blame Mac for hating him, after all he had done to the poor kid. Not that he was going to stop beating him up.

The covers were still tightly drawn over his head. They didn't think he could hear the conversation, but Frankie hadn't closed the door all the way, and since Mac was standing next to it, he could hear every word.

It hurt.

He would never let anyone know, but it hurt. To think, he had been nice once. He had been caring and perfect. And in one swift moment, all of that was knocked away, and he turned into this monster. If Mom hadn't lied to him, then maybe, he would still be that sweet boy he had been so long ago.

The conversation outside went on.

"But he's not going to change, Mac," Bloo stated. "If he were going to change because he finally figured out that he's not like you or your mom or Frankie, then wouldn't he have started to change already? I think not. I mean, that bruise looks recent."

"What bruise?" Mac questioned, searching himself.

"The bruise on the back of your neck," Wilt pointed out. "Man, that does look pretty new. Its purple, Mac…Did Terrence do that to you?"

Mac reached back, finding the spot and wincing at the pain that it emitted. "I didn't think he hit me hard enough to bruise. Anyway, that's not the point. Whenever he gets frustrated or hurt, the only way he knows how to solve it is to hurt me. That's it. I won't be around here all the time, so he's gotta learn not to do it. He just…he just has to."

Frankie looked at Wilt, then Eduardo, then Bloo, and finally back at Wilt, unsure of what to do. She was looking for something to say, and looking at Wilt, she could only hope that he would get the hint.

Wilt didn't miss a beat. "Why not let him stay? Giving him a chance couldn't hurt, and if we at least try to get him to follow the rules, who knows? Maybe he'll come to think of us as a family, the way we do now." He never failed to cheer them up with his optimism.

"Alright," Frankie smiled. "But let's keep Terrence's violent…tendencies away from Herriman, okay?"

---

Terrence sat up, tossing the blankets aside. His feet dangled over the edge of the bed as he rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. They were still talking out there, about the bruises. "Holy hell…Terrific, Terrence. You just got yourself kicked outta the only place that supposed to tolerate ya. Smooth move, Einsteen."

He stood up and scanned the room. It was a pretty nice looking room, with exception to the fact that it held an old house vibe. He hated old houses; the possibility that they were going to crumble at any second was always a lingering thought in his head. Still, he missed his old room.

"Maybe I should leave before they have a chance to kick me out," he said aloud, wondering why he had done so since there was no one to talk to. "That way, I'm not the one that looks bad." He glanced around, wondering if there was a way out.

He couldn't just waltz out of the room; what with everyone standing there. That was just insane to even consider.

He sighed, finally spotting the window, and the sickening feeling disappeared. Of course, the window; a perfect escape. He forced it open, using much more strength than he actually needed, and pushed his head outside.

He hadn't realized just how late it was until he had done so. It was nearly completely dark out, save for the bright stream of colors leaking out over the horizon. That sickness must have really done something to his system. He guessed it was probably about seven at night.

Oh well. Night was the best time to leave anyway. He doubted anyone would even know he was gone.

Terrence gulped, seeing for the first time just how high up they were. It was such a long way down; jumping could be suicide from where the room was located. But what else was there? Nothing; it was something he had to do. Maybe it would be a soft landing, if he planned it just right. There were bushes and flowers just below him. With the proper jump, he might land to safety.

Or maybe he'd just get a concussion or break something, like an arm. As if he needed his arm. Yeah right.

Closing his eyes, his made his decision, pulled his head back in, and then placed his foot outside of the window. _I'm not gonna die I'm not gonna die I'm not gonna die…_

He began to move out of the window, clinging onto the house for dear life. He did all this, just as Mac and the others entered the room.

"Terrence! What are you doing?!" Mac shrieked, suddenly grabbing onto the boy's leg before Terrence had managed to get any more of himself out. The sudden contact startled him, and he jumped, hitting his head against the window pane and slipped. His foot caught on something on the outside, holding his leg in place.

Wilt acted as fast as he could, setting the water glass down on the floor, and grabbed Terrence by his underarms before he could fall out of the house. Eduardo grabbed Mac, yanking him away from his 'brother' and Frankie grabbed a hold of Wilt's waist, trying to assist him in saving the friend.

Wilt tried to pull Terrence back in, but his foot was still caught, and each tug only caused more and more pain. "Ow!" Terrence growled, struggling. He attempted to turn his head to glare at Wilt and sneered loudly, "What are ya trying to do, you moron? Rip my leg off?!"

Wilt ignored his pesky insults. "Frankie, can you see if you can get him unstuck? I think its his foot or something…"

Frankie complied, letting go of his waist and edging towards the window, doing her best to avoid getting kicked by the struggling teen. She motioned for Coco to help Wilt in subduing the boy while she tried to sort out the situation and the other imaginary friend accepted with a thunderous "CoCO!!"

She promptly sat on his stomach, unleashing a plethora of 'comments' from her so-called "chair" of sorts.

As Coco and Wilt held onto Terrence, Frankie reached a hand out and, finally, grabbing a hold of his ankle, shook it lose of whatever had been holding it. Wilt pulled one final time, sending Terrence, Coco and himself flying across the room into the wall.

They lay a giant dog pile on the floor, each one groaning in pain. Terrence growled, roughly pushing Wilt off of him, and promptly rolled over. "Uh…I think I'm gonna be sick…" he muttered, pushing himself to his hands and knees.

Mac confronted him, face red. "What were you doing? I know you're upset about Mom and everything, but killing yourself isn't going to solve anything, Terrence!"

Terrence glanced up at him, startled by the sudden sight of tears streaming down the smaller boy's cheeks. He gritted his teeth and sat up, doing a wonderful job at hiding his guilt behind a look of annoyance. "I wasn't going to kill myself, you idiot," he shot out. "I was just-" he wondered just then if he should tell them what he was really doing; wondered if they should know that he was trying to run off, and doing a horrible job at it.

"-looking for something…" he finished coolly. "I thought I dropped something."

Frankie intervened, looking quite skeptical. "Dropped something. Out the window?" She shifted her gaze to Wilt, who shrugged in return, then at Eduardo, who looked away, then to Coco and Bloo, both of which seeming to be enjoying Terrence's little pack of lies. They were clearly amused, so Frankie decided it best that she pay no mind to them. She turned her attention to Mac. He stared at her pitifully, pleading in silence that she wouldn't say anything to get him kicked out.

Terrence stood up, folding his arms. "Yeah, ya see, I, uh, had to open the window, 'cause I was feeling sick and stuff, and when I opened it, it was really windy and I just thought I dropped something….God, what's with all the questions? Its like you don't trust me or something…"

The room was quiet.

"Well," Wilt smiled, finally breaking the silence. "I think its time we got to work on Terrence's bed. Mac, you said something about spending the night again. Are you still going to?"

Mac smiled and nodded, trying not to let anyone his concern and fear. "Yeah, I still want to, and its okay with Mom if I do, too." He saw Terrence wince out of the corner of his eye, and his smile faded. He turned to look at the boy he had spent so many years believing was his sibling and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. So he turned away, giving his attention to Bloo.

Terrence mumbled something under his breath and whirled around to head out the door, almost running in Frankie. How she had gotten there without his knowing was beyond him.

"You missed dinner tonight too," she replied, not making eye contact, "But I already talked to the bunn- er, I mean Herriman about it, and if you're hungry, you're more than welcome to go down to the kitchen to get something to eat," she offered, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Terrence felt hot. As if the room temperature had been turned up to a blasting 100 degrees. His face turned a bright shade of red and sweat making its long trek down his forehead. He spoke, "I- I -I…uh tha-thankssss…thank..ss…uh um eh…"

Frankie watched him uneasily, withdrawing her hand and taking a step back. "Are you going to be okay, Terrence? Do you need someone to help you downstairs?"

Terrence shook his head violently, realizing that nothing that came out of his mouth sounded like words. Quickly, he pulled himself together and formed the sentences out in his head before saying anything. He forced himself to stare into her eyes without showing how nervous he truly was. "I- no thanks. I'm sure I can manage on my own. I'll just be a few minutes…" He flashed a fake smile and in an instant, raced out of the room.

"Oh man, oh man, oh man," he grumbled, heading down the hallway toward the stairs. "Man, that was dumb, that was stupid…oh man, she probably thinks I'm a big loser now, like Mac or something. Dammit!" He buried his face in his hands, whining and complaining all the while, stepping down the staircase.

"And after that little stunt now, she probably thinks I'm some suicidal nuisance or something," he griped more. "Why do things just go from shitty to….something shittier?"

Then he spotted it. The front door, sitting there unguarded in all its glory. He grinned and took a quick glance around, checking to make sure that there wasn't a soul in sight. As if. "That stupid rabbit man probably locks them all away by eight o' clock or something. Stupid rabbit. Stupid Foster's. Stupid stupid stupid."

He squealed merrily, took another glance around to make sure that no one had heard it and began to head for the door. He wasn't sure where he would go or anything, as his mother's apartment was without question off limits. Perhaps he could find a _REAL _foster home. Or maybe he could-

"Hey, Terrence" a voice called out behind him. He turned around, finding Wilt standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching, smiling warmly. He froze. "What are you…oh, I see." The smile disappeared.

Terrence said nothing.

Wilt slowly walked to where he stood and put a red hand on his shoulder. "So that's it. You're running away. That's why you were hanging out of the window. Why?"

Terrence looked away, angry at himself for letting Wilt find him before he could get out. "I'm not running away," he replied sternly. "You can't run away when there's nothing to run away from, ya know. So I'm not running away; I'm just leaving."

He moved away, and began to head for the door again. Wilt's voice made its way to his ears once more, his words halting any further movement from the boy. "Now that you know what its like to be abandoned, why would do the same to someone else? Why would you make them hurt as you do right now? Sounds kind of selfish…"

Terrence whirled around, gritting his teeth, clenching his fists. "Don't you get it? I don't have anyone! There's no one to abandon! I'm alone, you moron! My leaving isn't going to hurt a damn soul!"

Wilt flinched; whether it was from the choice of words or the insensitivity, Terrence wasn't sure. The pause was long and deafening, and that's when he decided it was time to leave again. The door seemed to get further away as he took a few more steps.

"What about Mac?" Wilt whispered. "He's done so much for you since you got here. He stood up for you in the scariest moments and took care of you when you were sick. Not even Bloo can understand why he said those things, even about the bruise. Anyone can see he's hurting, just like you, except for you. You're the one that should see it most of all. I mean, you grew up as his brother."

Terrence closed his eyes tightly. It was all those damn emotions again. He had to keep them down; he had to make them go away. "Mac will be better off without me. You know it, I know it, he knows it. I'm too violent, remember? I'm a menace, and I'm not going to stop."

Wilt narrowed his eye, grimacing at the boy's words and thoughts. "I'm not the one who doesn't get it, Terrence. You are. You don't even know what you're talking about. You don't even know where you're going. You know as well as I do that there's no place out there for you now. Where will you go? Home? Back to your mom?"

Feeling the urge to cry rise up again, Terrence slouched, bringing his arms around himself. He was cold again. "Just leave me alone. I can't do it; its too hard. Its too hard pretending that this hellhole is my home now. So I won't."

He didn't move however, just standing there and gulping down those saddening thoughts, as much as it hurt. It was the only thing he could do.

Wilt's hand reached out and touched his shoulder yet again, causing Terrence to jump out of shock. The teenager glanced up at him, and Wilt caught a glimpse of something that quite possible no one would ever see again.

Fear. Fear and hurt and pain swirling around in those eyes. They seemed to lose all hatred they once held, but the emotion only lasted for a moment, before Terrence blinked them all away. He shifted his gaze quickly, hoping that the tall friend hadn't seen anything he shouldn't have.

Wilt did, and for the first time since they had met, Terrence wasn't so scary.

Smiling, he wrapped his arm around the boy and began leading him towards the stairs, and all the while, Terrence complied, not saying a word.

"I know its scary, Terrence, being in a place you don't know all that well," Wilt explained sympathetically. "I mean, a home is a place where you feel safe, where you can trust the people living within a house's confines. I know you don't trust us yet. I know what its like." He continued, trying to put some faith into the other without sounding like a know-it-all. "I understand this that getting adjusted to Foster's is going to be tough, but maybe," he sounded hopeful, "you'll come to see us as your family, and maybe, Foster's as your home."

Terrence looked up at him, stopping suddenly just before the stairs. He forced his eyes to the floor, and with a voice so soft that Wilt wasn't at all sure it was Terrence speaking, replied, "You won't tell." It was more of a request than anything, and Wilt could see that.

Smiling warmly as he always did, he answered, "Of course not. Its our little secret." He couldn't help but feel warm all over, his happiness reaching it's peak for the moment. _Maybe Mac was right_, he thought, _maybe Terrence will change for the better. Maybe, he just needs a real home with a real family. Yeah, this could be a good-_

He felt a hand grab onto his shoulder, yanking him forward towards the ground. His back made a terrible popping noise on the way down and a gentle numbness overtook the area. He winced, suddenly staring into those eyes, the malice forcing him to close his own.

Terrence sneered, the hate back in his face. "Good. I'd hate for something unfortunate to happen to ya if ya did. It would be a real pity." Letting go of Wilt, he grinned, and charged up the steps and towards the room, leaving Wilt to stand there in shock.

What had just happened? He couldn't understand it. One minute he had been trying to help this poor, tormented child and the next, he was bent over, being threatened by some adolescent delinquent. Standing up straight again, he ignored the pain that had abruptly swallowed the numbness, and headed up the steps, after Terrence.

It just didn't make sense how the situation could've taken such a wrong turn in a matter of seconds. Maybe Terrence had a split personality disorder or something. One of the friends around the house had told him of it once. "Maybe not," he thought aloud. "Maybe he's just crazy… I guess you were wrong, Mac. I don't think he's going to change at all. If he does, it'll probably only get worse…"

"…_then he's more like an extreme-a-saur or something."_

The thought hit Wilt like a ton of bricks. Terrence was destructive and violent. Much like the extreme-a-saurs in the back of Foster's. It was a very plausible thought. He shuddered unconsciously. Could Terrence possibly be one of those things? Destructive…violent…hate-filled…but then what about…?

His conclusion was no. He thought back to just minutes ago when he had seen Terrence's eyes. Such powerful feelings. No extreme-a-saur possessed that, not would they show if they had. "Yeah, he's not one of them. He's one of us. He can change. We can help him see. I know we can," he smiled to himself as he came upon the room and entered.

It was a nice sight he came in upon. Mac and Bloo were finishing up setting up Terrence's bed, Coco and Eduardo were just getting settled into theirs, Frankie was bringing in some extra blankets for the boys, and Terrence-

Wilt stood up straight, hitting his head on the doorframe. His jaw dropped and he felt his heart thump hard in his chest, panicked and fearful. "Oh man…"

Terrence wasn't there.

--- ---

--- --- ---

--- ---

A/N:

I can't remember if Wilt's, Coco's, Eduardo's, and Bloo's room had a window or not. If it didn't, it does now.

God, this chapter just went all over the place.…we'll say that this is the worst chapter, okay? Can you tell, I really have no plot as of now? Oh well. I had the same general ending for this, but it was written better. Unfortunately, my computer pooped out and I didn't have the chance to save what I had written. So sorry.


	4. Asylum

Disclaimer: Must I repeat myself?

A/N: Due to the fact that writing flashbacks is so much fun, I'll probably end up writing one in every chapter. If you don't like flashbacks, skip over them or whatever. Meh. It's up to you. I tried to get more Mac and Wilt thoughts here, so its not entirely 100 from around Terrence's standpoint.

Thanks to all those who have reviewed, and thanks to Spyden, who suggested a few plot bunnies for me. I think that I might mix some of them up into one story. :D

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**Terra Incognita**

**-- ---**

Chapter 4: Asylum

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_I am a puppet on a string_

_I am the worst thing worst thing you've ever seen_

_I am impossible to believe_

_I'm pulled by gravity shocked by my depravity_

_I am humble I am vain_

_What motivates me something I can't explain_

_I am outrageous and insane_

_I'm fueled by gasoline, alcohol and nicotine_

_Watch Me As I Fall, Pennywise_

--- ---

Wilt was in a panic.

"Oh my God, you don't think he's doing something bad, do you? He'd could be anywhere in Foster's," he groaned, pacing the room, while the other's sat back and watched, eyeing him oddly. "Oh man, he might be breaking something. We need to find him before its too late."

"Wilt, relax," Frankie replied, sitting on Terrence's new bed. "He probably just got lost when he went to the kitchen to get something to eat. Or maybe he's still there trying to find something to eat. He hasn't eaten in two days after all. I'm sure he'll be back soon." She reassuringly reached up and put a hand on his shoulder.

Wilt forced a smile. "Yeah, you're probably right, Frankie. He's probably just in the kitchen….But I saw him run up the stairs. Right after he thre- I mean, right after I talked to him."

Mac stood up, leaving his place from the sleeping bag on the floor. "What was that, Wilt? What was it you were going to say? Did he say something to you? Something mean?"

"No, of course not," Wilt replied, almost stumbling over his lie. For some reason, he felt compelled to cover for Terrence, at least a little. He didn't want to get the boy in trouble, after all. Even if he probably deserved it. "We were just having a little chat, and he ran up the steps is all. That's it. Nothing wrong here."

They stared at him, skeptical, but quickly shrugged it off. It wasn't like Wilt to lie, especially for someone as rotten as Terrence.

"I'm sure the cree- er, lug will be back soon," said Bloo, trying to put things to rest. "Look, we can either go look for him, or we can do what I'm sure everyone wants to do, and get some sleep. I don't think its that hard to decide, people."

Frankie stood up, putting her hands on her hips. "You're right, Bloo. We should really go look for him. Its been roughly a half an hour since he left. He's got to be around here somewhere."

"CoCO coco," Coco remarked, getting up from her bed as well and taking a place next to Frankie.

"Coco's right," Mac chimed in. "We should split up. He'll be easier to find that way."

"Where ya goin'?" a voice came from the doorway. They all turned, coming to face the object of their would-be search, leaning against the frame of the door, staring right back at them through half closed eyes. "Running away?"

He seemed to look at Wilt as he said it, but shifted his gaze away to Frankie, suddenly noticing the look he was getting. It was a look of confusion. He shrugged before they could ask any questions and answered without having to be asked, "I was looking for the bathroom. This place is a freaking maze. Lucky I found a plant that was just what I needed before I got lost trying to look for the toilet."

Coco glared at him. Shaking her head, she headed off to her own bed, and promptly got settled in. "CoCO co cococo!" With that said, whatever it was, she snapped her eyes shut.

Eduardo made a face, sneaking off to his own bed. "Peeing on plants? That _is _disgusting. Es cachino…" He glanced at Mac and Bloo before pulling the covers over his head. "Es gross, si?" He waited for acknowledgement, not bothering to uncover his head. "Si?"

"Ew, that is pretty gross," Bloo, too, made a face, much more exaggerated than Eduardo's. "Mac, you're brother never ceases to amaze me with his stupidity. And his grossness. And his stupidity." There was a silence before Bloo added, "Did I mention his stupidity?"

Mac groaned. "Bloo, stop. Let's just…Let's just go to bed." Terrence couldn't help but notice the disappointment in the child's voice and the sadness in his eyes as he spoke, suddenly feeling a twinge of guilt inside his chest. It took him only a minute to suppress it.

As Terrence headed for his own bed, Frankie stopped him on his way out, whispering low enough so that nobody else could hear. "Sleep well, Terrence. Try to keep those nightmares to yourself tonight."

She walked passed him, and he watched her leave, confusion clear on his face. "Nightmares? What…?" What nightmares? All he had had last night was that memory dream, and that was hardly a nightmare. That was just…stupid. He let it go, deciding that the girl was out of her mind, and hopped into his new bed.

He had to admit it was pretty comfortable, just about as comfortable as the last bed he slept it. He glanced over to the specific bed, realizing then that it was Bloo's. _If I had known that, I woulda pissed on it_, he chuckled inwardly. _Oh well, I guess I can always do that tomorrow when he and Mac leave for breakfast or whatever._

The light went out; Terrence guessed that Wilt had done it, what with the freakishly long arms and all. He rested his head against the pillow, closed his eyes for a minute or two before deciding that he couldn't sleep. The bedroom was already blazing with the sound of snores and deep breaths, and for some reason, he was reminded of the school bus.

There were always the same three boys that sat behind him, for two years straight. Every school day was another nightmare, in the morning and afternoon when he rode that fucking bus, and those boys annoyed him to no end.

There was the loud one, always trying to scam people out of their money; the smart one, who was always apologizing to Terrence for the loud one's behavior; and the stupid one, who served no real purpose other than to assist the loud one in annoying people and trying to take their money.

The situation of annoyance became too extreme for Terrence to handle at one point, that he snapped. The loud one had just gotten finished telling him what a wonderful penny he had found on the floor and that he would be more than willing to sell it to Terrence for a measly 25 cents, and then Terrence punched him in the face.

He was permanently kicked off of the bus and made to walk to school everyday, which suited him just fine. He never understood why he hadn't done it in the first place.

He supposed Foster's reminded him of the situation due to a plethora of annoying creatures. It was as he did on the bus: Cope as best as he could before he snapped, ended up hitting someone, and getting himself kicked out of the home. However, he doubted very much that he would enjoy not having a place to live.

A sudden sound knocked him from his thoughts.

"Why are you acting like this, Terrence?" He immediately recognized it as Mac, speaking a whisper. He sounded upset, and it took all of Terrence's strength to stop himself from sounding like he cared.

"Like what, moron?"

Mac moved in the darkness. "Like that,'' he mumbled. "Like a jerk. Ever since you got here, you've just been acting like one giant jerk. I thought maybe, you'd be acting differently, being in a new home with a new family."

Terrence rolled over. "Well, you were wrong, weren't you? I don't care that your mom doesn't love me. And I ain't gonna change, so suck it up. I don't care about your mom, I don't care about you, and I don't care if I get kicked outta stupid Foster's, so just shut up."

There was a long pause. For a while, Terrence thought that Mac had fallen asleep, and he tried to as well. The opportunity was short-lived.

"Foster's is the only home you have right now," Mac countered, sounding like he was close to tears. "They're not just going to kick you out. This is your home now, so get used to it. When I was growing up, there were times, I thought you were more of a monster than a person. I'm starting to think I was right."

Terrence pulled the covers over his head, wanting to block out Mac's voice. "You're not making me feel bad, okay? So just shut the hell up. You can say all you want, but I'll be damned if this place is my _home_. Just shut the fuck up."

"You're so selfish…I don't think you were ever a nice friend…no matter what Mom says…" Mac replied, sniffling. Then, there was silence.

Terrence rolled over again. A nice friend. That sounded so cheesy. Like something from a fairy tale or a Disney movie. Hardly. He couldn't really recall a time that he hadn't been a complete asshole, and the times that he had been at least a little nice hadn't lasted for very long.

_Bah_, he thought, drifting off to sleep. _I don't care. They're all stupid anyway. _Just before reality caved in to his simple dreams, he heard Mac speak once more, before succumbing to sleep.

"Why do you have to make everyone **_hate _**you?"

--- ---

--- --- ---

--- ---

"What did you have to do that for, Terrence?!" she screamed, shoving him. It wasn't as affective as she had hoped; she might as well have been half his height.

He rolled his eyes, looking unfazed by her sudden action and words. "He's a jerk. That's why. He was just going to end up dumping you for that other girl who's always treating him like a god. If I hadn't done something to make him piss off, he would've just hurt you. Trust me, I know these things."

"What do you mean 'you know these things'?!" she snapped, trying to shove him again. "You're an imaginary friend. You've never had a girlfriend. You've never been in love. You don't know anything about it!"

"Yeah I do," he retorted. "I seen those shows your mom watches every day. Now that's real human living. Trust me, that guy was a creep. What if I had just let it slip, huh? You'd be at home crying that he didn't want you anymore by this time tomorrow. I know: Guys are shallow."

"You're a guy…"

"So? I'm not human, so by default I'm not like the other guys. So there."

"So there nothing! Now I'll never get asked out. Everyone thinks I'm dating you!:" she pouted. "Its not fair."

"Its perfect," Terrence replied, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I mean, how's it s'possed to work out if you get married to someone? What if you 'husband' or boyfriend or whatever doesn't want you hanging out with me anymore? Do you wanna stop being friends?"

A pause. "No."

"See? I'm just looking out for you." He sat down on the curb of the street they had been walking down; her house was just a few more blocks away. She followed, hugging her knees up to her chest. "Is that the guy you like? The one that you think is so special and so different? The one that you'll love forever or whatever you said?"

She blushed violently, trying to hide it with her hands. "N-no. Of course not. Its just that…he liked me, so I thought I could…"

Terrence stared at her with near vacant eyes. "Could what?" He smiled and jokingly replied, "What? Were you gonna date him to forget the other guy that you're supposedly in love with?"

Her face turned an even brighter shade of red. "I…I…"

Terrence didn't seem to notice, that smile still planted on his face. "That would be pretty funny, ya know. What a way to avoid lovey dovey stuff. I still say 12 is too young for that stuff. Maybe it'll go away, then we can start having fun again, like we used to."

She was still red, shivering, shaking. Her arms wrapped tightly around her legs, she tried to keep his gaze off of him, but she couldn't. This happened every time, everyday. Every moment they were together, every second that their eyes met, her legs would buckle beneath her, her body was trapped in a blanket of shivers. Her face was always pink with embarrassment, her eyes would get wide.

Terrence, sat back, resting on his elbows. He ran a hand through his hair, and chuckled, at what she guess was still the thought of her dating a guy simply to avoid someone she really had feelings for.

"You know, you'll fall in love when your older," he began , not really paying attention to what he saying. "When love will really mean something to ya or whatever. Right now, all it is is a crush. That's all."

"Terrence, I…I.."

He glanced over, just in time to see her leap forward. He felt her arms wrap tightly around his neck, the feel of her lips against his. They fell backwards onto the sidewalk. Her eyes were closed tightly; his open wide in shock.

_Does this mean…what does it mean…? I can't breathe…I can't breathe…I can't breathe…_

"Terrence…" she called.

Terrence gasped, still struggling for a breath. He grabbed at his neck, trying to free himself from whatever was holding him.

"Terrence…"

--- ---

--- --- ---

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"Terrence."

Terrence rolled over, his arm flopping over the side of the bed. He opened one groggy eye, and groaned, wanting to go back for more sleep.

The voice persisted. "Terrence," it snapped.

The boy sat up finally, rubbing his hand against his face. He looked over, finding a figure standing in the doorway. "What-?"

"Shh!" the figure snapped again. "Get your clothes on and come with me. I must talk to you. Now." It disappeared into the hallway as Terrence stared after it. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, and stood up out of bed.

He hadn't known his jacket had come off, that really being the only clothing he didn't have on. He had probably lost it while he was sleeping, tossing and turning from those nightmares. Seemed that was all he was capable of having now. Nightmares.

Stepping over Mac, he was careful not to make a sound that might wake anyone, especially Wilt. He hadn't even been here long and already Wilt was already his least liked acquaintance. He made it to the hallway and closed the door behind him gently.

"Good. I'm surprised to see you didn't screw up and wake the entire house, as I thought you would've done."

Terrence made a face, and grabbed the doorknob back to the bedroom. "I wouldn't have bothered getting up if I knew it was you. I'm going back to bed. I don't need this."

Duchess grabbed his shirt before he could go any further. "Wait, I need to talk to you. I wouldn't have dragged you out here if I didn't have a reason. As if I would want to shame myself conversing with the likes of you by choice."

Terrence gagged and withdrew quickly from her hold. "Ew, get away from me. I don't need to come to you to be insulted. Any of those retards in the room can do that just as easy and they don't make me sick just looking at them."

"You little urchin…." Duchess growled. "Nevermind. I was a fool to even think that this could work. The things I resort to in desperate times…"

"Desperate times?" Terrence questioned, not sounding at all interested. "Why are you so desperate now? Is Bloo still taking away all your precious attention?"

"That wretched Bloo takes the attention away from everyone," Duchess spat, forcing Terrence against the wall without even having to touch him. "You weren't around on the Adopt-a-friend or whatever Saturday, a few weeks ago. He single handedly had every child ignoring me, and all the other friends."

Terrence grinned. "So you still wanna get rid of him then, huh?"

"More than you could ever know, Terrence," the stuck up one folded her arms, and looked away. "A long as he's around, no one will be adopted in this God-forsaken house. Not even you."

"I don't want to be adopted," Terrence informed. "What would the point of that be? Get adopted so that someone can take you home for a few months before they abandon you again. The whole thing starts over again. That's stupid. Besides, there's no way you can get rid of Bloo. Don't he and Mac have some kinda free card? Ya know, no one can adopt Bloo?"

"Understand, Terrence," Duchess explained, her expression appearing even more malicious than usual. "I don't just want to terminate Bloo from Foster's, I want to get rid of all the imaginary friends here. All of them. Every single one. There are more and more friends coming to Foster's every day. At this rate, I'll never be adopted. That's where you come in."

"Me? No way, I don't want to have anything to do with you," Terrence growled, grabbing the doorknob to the room again. "You had me eaten by a fucking extreme-a-saur last time I decided to help you out. You know how disgusting that was? Not to mention how much it hurt when it spit me out? I had fifteen fucking stitches on my back!"

"All that I need you to do is get the other friends into trouble," Duchess persisted. "Be destructive and let the blame rest on them! Somehow, we can get Herriman to kick them all out of Foster's, and then, children will have no choice but to adopt us!"

Terrence shot her a look. "You are completely insane! There's, like, a million friends here or something! Its impossible to get them all kicked out! Besides… if that Herriman guy finds out that it was me, I'll be the one kicked out. And I don't have any place to go."

He turned around again. "Besides…Mac's stood up for me so far. What kind of freak would I be if I messed it up for both of us? I hate to admit it… but I owe him…so no. I won't help you."

Duchess clenched her fist, snarling at him. "You'll regret this, you little beast. Soon you'll be locked out in that pen with those destructive freaks out back when everyone sees you for what you truly are. You are a monster. You can either use that to your advantage or I will use it against you and everyone else."

"Excuse me," a voice intervened, causing Terrence to jump. They two friends looked towards the bedroom, finding a certain scarlet friend standing in the doorway. "I don't think this is the proper time to be discussing things like this. In fact, you shouldn't be discussing it at all."

Terrence smiled, doing a remarkable job at hiding his relief that Wilt had shown up in the nick of time. "So sorry. The Freak was just heading back to her room. She was just a little lonely, I guess…" he waved her goodbye, and headed past Wilt. "Goodnight, Duchess. Sleep tight."

Wilt watched him return to bed, and turned his attention back to Duchess. "I heard what you were saying, Duchess. I'm sorry, but what you're trying to do to him and the other friends is horrible. I won't say anything this time, but I don't think you and Terrence should see each other anymore. He's already in enough trouble as it is."

Duchess smiled, though it was hard to see. "I wouldn't dream of doing anything to exploit his miserable human-like habits. We're simply friends. You have no proof of anything otherwise. Now if you'll excuse me, its getting late…"

Wilt watched her withdraw into the darkness, and returned to the bedroom. As he shut the door, he couldn't help but glance at Terrence's bed. The snoring confirmed that he was already asleep, and Wilt sighed, crawling back to his own bed.

Frankie's words were _still _haunting him. It was as if they were crawling up and down his spine, sending horrible tremors all over his body. Even Duchess saw the kid as nothing more than an extreme-a-saur. What would she do, now that Terrence was around? It was obvious that she had already made plans on using his destructive tendencies against the other friends in the house.

He couldn't be sure if this night was getting better, or getting worse. On the one hand, Terrence had attempted to jump out a window, runaway, threaten Wilt, and then had Duchess confront him with a proposal. But on the other, Terrence had turned her down. That was a good sign, showing that he did care for what everyone had been trying to do for him, especially Mac.

Wilt couldn't be sure what this night was. It had been somewhat interesting, but not in an entertaining way. So many questions were flying around in his head. What Duchess was going to do now that she knew Terrence wasn't going to help her. How Terrence was going to react around the other friends. If he really was an extreme-a-saur. And other such things haunted him. They would plague him all night long, in his dreams and out.

---

There was another soul awake that night, in the very same room, wondering what to make of it all. It still felt so strange to Mac suddenly becoming an only child. He wasn't sure if this would help Terrence's violence, or make it worse.

He already knew that Terrence had threatened Wilt; the look on Wilt's face earlier was all the answer he needed to verify it. God, he could be such an idiot. Mac was beginning to wonder why he even stood up for him at all. Terrence didn't care enough to appreciate it.

He wondered then how Mom was doing. She was no doubt sitting at home, crying herself to sleep as she had done the night before. Over the phone, the very day that Terrence had been dropped off, Mac had called home, making sure, of course, that it was okay if he could spend the night, due to his ex-brother's recent sickness. He knew she wouldn't say no, but he felt bad not going home that night, and this night as well. She was crying when he spoke to her.

At first, he wondered if she deserved to be hurt, lying to her children all that time. But that phone call; she just seemed so hurt and empty. Now more than ever, he knew she felt alone. Terrence hadn't made the situation any better saying that he hated her.

He began to wonder what was going on with Terrence. The things he was doing. They were so unbelievable; from trying to jump out of the window to peeing on the plants around the house. For God's sake, Mac had really thought he'd been trying to kill himself.

"And he didn't even care. He didn't care that I was worried about him…" the small boy whispered.

_How could Mom think up someone like Terrence? _He asked himself, sniggling into the covers. _How could she make someone so unfeeling? He never thinks of anyone but himself. He doesn't even care about what's happening to him now, I bet. I thought he would at least cry, maybe just once. God, I don't think I've ever seen him shed a tear. _

_Maybe he is an extreme-a-saur…_

His thoughts soared back to the time not long ago that Terrence and Duchess had teamed up simply for the sole purpose of destroying Bloo. The extreme-a-saur that they had let lose after him, and the painful hospital trip for Terrence that came afterwards once the beast had spit him out.

Terrence wasn't capable of that kind of damage on another living thing, was he? He had never given anyone stitches before, as he had been given. Could he do that now?

He heard a chattering just then, and sat up quickly, startled. "Wilt? Eduardo, is that you?"

"Mmff," another sound came, and Mac realized who it was just then. Terrence lay curled into a ball on his bed, hugging the blankets closely, and shivering. His eyes were clenched shut, and he shook and sweat violently. A few more muffled sounds escaped from his mouth.

"Terrence…" Mac whispered to himself, having to identify the culprit of the noise aloud. "He's having nightmares…He…he has a lot of those…"

Shaking his head, he stood up and held the blankets to his chest. Nightmares were the only things that ever made Terrence seem somewhat human. He seemed like every other person in the world to Mac, capable of emotion, because when he was sleeping you could actually see it. When he was sleeping, he couldn't make all of his emotions go away.. The pain and fear on his face and the way his body convulsed with uncontrollable shivers was all the reason Mac needed to remember why he wanted to help his 'brother.'

Mac ran a hand through his hair and, holding the blankets close to him, crawled into the bed next to Terrence. He lay next to him, and latched onto his arm, falling asleep.

Terrence stopped shivering, and the nightmares seemed to cease.

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A/N: Pray it gets a little more interesting in the next chapter. :Gasp!: Do we have a plot? Maybe….just maybe…we do.

Everybody's beginning to think he's an extreme-a-saur….its so sad.


	5. Feign

Terra Incognita

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A/N: I love angst. Angsty angsty angst.

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Chapter 5: Feign

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_Something's wrong,_

_Trying to conquer these fears I thought were gone._

_And it's been so long, _

_I'm dying to live in a world I don't belong_

_Wait, Earshot_

--- ---

"Good morning, Master Wilt," Herriman replied, hopping past the tall friend as he made his early rounds. "I trust you slept well?"

"Good morning, Mr. Herriman. I slept like a baby," Wilt replied, smilingly politely, as he always did. "That was the best night of sleep I've had in a long time."

Mr. Herriman seemed startled at this and hopped back around to talk to Wilt face to face. "You mean, everything was fine? There weren't any sort of problems that you should've-er, might've encountered during the course of the night?"

Wilt shrugged, the smile disappearing from his face for a mere tenth of a second. "Nope. Everything was just fine. Why do you ask?"

The rabbit leant in close to the tall friend, looking up and down the halls for any sign of life. Finding none, whispered cautiously, "Not even with…Master Terrence?"

Confused, Wilt glanced at the ceiling, then at the floor, and then finally back at Herriman. "Um, why should there be any problem with Terrence?" He could recall that Mr. Herriman didn't know a single thing about last night's threat, nor did he know about the newbie's running away plot that had been so easily destroyed. There was no reason for him to think that there was anything out of the ordinary with Terrence.

That is, if you left out the whole Duchess plan to get rid of Bloo he had been voluntarily involved some time ago. And no doubt, Herriman wasn't even taking that into account.

Mr. Herriman did not refrain from using a whisper, though Wilt could see no reason why he should. "Master Wilt, surely you know of his…tendencies. I never thought that someone so unholy could exists on the Foster's grounds…it's a terrible shame that none of the cages would hold him. They worked so well for the other extreme-a-saurs."

Wilt gulped audibly. "Cages? Extreme-a-saurs? You mean to tell me that Terrence is a-"

Herriman quickly locked a hand over the friend's mouth, silencing him further. "Shhh…who knows where the beast is now. Unleashing his evil upon the house. He's already taken Master Bloo and Miss Coco, and even Eduardo. Eaten them alive I'm afraid…"

"What?" Wilt couldn't believe what he was hearing. The rabbit was obviously delirious with something. Perhaps another dog had worked its way into the house and the fear had ultimately fried his orderly, rabbit brain. "But Terrence is just a kid. He can't eat other friends alive. That's impossible."

He could swear that he only looked away for a moment, to investigate a sound heard down the hall. When he glanced back at Herriman, the bunny had disappeared, leaving only his monocle, oddly enough, broken. A distinct crunching noise followed, echoing off the walls and sending a shiver up Wilt's spine. He searched the area, almost thoroughly convinced that Herriman was crazy and that he was possibly engaged in some weird game of hide n' seek.

Needless to say, Wilt was less than amused.

"Wilt, what's going on?"

The tall one looked over, spying Mac staring up at him with the same childish gaze he always had. "Oh, Mac. Hey, I was just looking for Mr. Herriman. I think he's gone nuts or something."

In the time it took him to blink, Mac had disappeared from sight as well, and the same crunching sound was quick to follow. Wilt could almost swear that just before it, he could hear a little boy's muffled scream.

Fear had overcome him now. Herriman had spoke of the others being eaten, and shortly after, he and Mac were gone. It had to be a coincidence. There was no way that Terrence could have eaten them all. Maybe only Bloo, being the tiny fellow he was, but not Eduardo, and certainly not Herriman. They were far too large.

But what could it have been?

"Hey, Red!" a voice boomed, laughing slightly. Wilt's eyes shot upward at the towering creature he suddenly believed to be the very one that had so suddenly devoured his friends.

"Terrence," he breathed, standing there in shock.

"Oooh, aren't you the smart one?!' Terrence cackled, slamming his fist down next to Wilt. There was something off with the way he looked. His mullet was even messier than usual; the top had grown out chaotically , and the back extended out like a long tangled tail of some sort. His crooked teeth had become a razor sharp set of fangs, and his eyes burned crimson. Perhaps the only distinguishable features he held now were his clothes and his zits.

Lookie what I got!" Terrence extended one large hand, revealing an unconscious Frankie lying in the palm of his hand. "I don't think I'll kill her though. I'll just keep her as my girlfriend instead!"

Wilt dodged a fist aimed in his direction, landing on his side, skidding a few feet. He pushed himself up on his hands, and screamed, his voice eaten by Terrence's laughter, "No! That's totally not okay! Let her go!!"

Terrence caught him suddenly, squeezing him in his claws. He dangled Wilt helplessly above his head and opened his mouth wide. "Have a nice trip, Red. I'll be seeing ya!!!"

"NO!!" Wilt sat straight up.

It was still dark outside; he guessed it was probably no later than 2 am, if even that. The room was silent, save for a few friends' snoring and rolling over. Sweat dribbled down his forehead, and he quickly wipe it away, still adjusting to the fact that there was no monster standing over him. Well, there was a monster, but he wasn't as Wilt had dreamed him to be.

"This must really be getting to me," he whispered to himself, rolling over and standing up. "I think I need something to drink. Maybe some milk or orange juice or something." As he headed for the door, he looked towards Mac's blankets, seeing nothing, but an abandoned pillow.

His heart started pounding rapidly again. Sweat fell from his forehead, as it had when he had waken up. He scanned the room, squinting to see in the dark. It hit him then, once he glanced at Terrence's bed, just where the little boy had gotten to.

He was curled up alongside the other boy, clinging to his arm, both looking so peaceful. Wilt sighed. It would seem like such a nice sight if it weren't for the fact that it was Terrence Mac was clinging to. Sometimes, Mac was just screaming to get beaten up.

He was tempted to wake the child up and drag him away so that he wouldn't get hurt when Terrence woke up, but that just wasn't okay. It wasn't fair to bring Mac into Wilt's own suspicions, so he didn't. Instead, he headed for the door, closing it gently behind him.

The hallways were darker and scarier than usual. Now Wilt could see why Eduardo hated to get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, alone. The floors creaked and cracked beneath him with every step, the wind outside pounded against the house. It might've terrified him if he were actually paying any real attention to it.

In the dark, the staircase seemed longer and the stairs themselves were almost steeper. Wilt found himself nearly falling down a couple times, but he caught himself in the knick of time and kept reminding himself to take it easy.

He was surprised to find the kitchen light on. Herriman was extremely strict on midnight snacks. He paused just before entering. What if it _was _Herriman? Taking some strange midnight look around to make sure that no one was up and about, trying to sneak food.

"Careful, Wilt," he told himself aloud in a tiny whisper. "Its all in your head. You just need to calm down."

He glanced in, finding the subject of his paranoia wasn't even there. Instead, Frankie stood at the counter, pouring herself something to drink. She turned around to head into the dining room, suddenly spotting Wilt staring at her from the entrance.

"Wilt," she replied, a smile on her face. "What are you doing down here? Its not like you to be down here so late at night."

Wilt forced a smile, however nervous. "Yeah.. I've been doing a lot of that these past few days. The whole 'not being myself' thing. I just came down to get a drink. Cottonmouth's really bothering me. I usually never wake up in the middle of the night like this, but the nightmare-"

"I'll get you something to drink," Frankie offered suddenly, setting her glass on the table and gesturing for him to enter the kitchen. "What did you want?"

Wilt shifted uncomfortably. "That's okay. You really don't have to do that, Frankie. I can get my own."

The girl shook her head, having already retrieved a glass. Her hand rested on the handle to refrigerator, and she glanced at him. "Well? Did you want orange juice or milk? Or maybe apple juice?"

Wilt felt suddenly compelled to stare at the tiles of the floor. He nodded, and finally gave a shy, "Apple juice, thank you. Apple juice sounds really good right now."

"I bet," came her reply. "After that nightmare. Here you go, Wilt." She handed him his cup and they headed back out into the dining room. Frankie took her grandmother's seat at the table and Wilt sat off to her left, staring off before he realized she was staring at him in a strange, expectant manner.

He cleared his throat. "So why are you down here in the middle of the night, Frankie? Couldn't sleep?"

Frankie rested her cheek against her hand. "Well, sort of. Have you ever had those nights where you know you were asleep but it feels as though you've been awake for hours on end. A few hours ago, I could swear it was only 9:30..."she droned off slowly, and rested her gaze on him. "So you were having a nightmare? What was it about?"

"Its kind of hard to explain," Wilt started. "It was about…" he glanced at her suddenly stopped. "Hey, Frankie? Have you ever known a person who you wanted to believe was a good person or at least had the potential to be one, but his personality made you think otherwise?"

Frankie sat up straight in her seat. "Oh. So that's who your nightmare was about. Well, I can see why you would you think that way. Especially since that's what Mac is going through too. Terrence just keeps hurting him and he keeps believing that somewhere inside his 'big brother' is a good person."

"I don't want Mac to get hurt," Wilt replied. "I mean, what happens if Terrence does something so awful that Mac loses faith in him? He'll be crushed, and I don't want to see that happen."

"They'll be crushed," Frankie corrected. "Terrence needs Mac as much as Mac needs him. I can see that much. They've been through so much together as brothers. I'm sure its devastating to find out that you're not really who you've been told you are, and then to have no one there just makes it worse. They've both been lied to, and Mac's willing to stick with Terrence for as long as it takes."

Wilt nodded, finishing his drink. The silence that followed was deafening to him. He wanted to speak, but stopped himself, not wanting something negative to escape his lips.

"Its really getting to you, isn't it?" Frankie replied, taking a sip of orange juice. "This really isn't like you at all, Wilt. I've never seen you so panicky and suspicious."

Wilt sighed, staring into the cup. "I know. I feel so out of character, but I can't help it. I really want to believe that Terrence is an okay kid, but part of me is saying that he's not. I feel like he's getting ready to do something. I just don't want to see anyone get hurt."

"You need to relax," Frankie reassured. "Terrence isn't exactly what I'd call the perfect guy, but keep in mind, he just lost his family. From what Mac's said, anger the only way he knows how to handle anything. Try to give him a chance. You've always been the best at that."

"You know, Frankie?" Wilt gave her a smile and stood up. "You're right. I should've known. You're always right, after all." He bent over and gave her a small kiss on the cheek. "Well, its late. I guess I should be heading off to bed. Goodnight."

Frankie waved, and stared at the juice swirling around in her cup. Was it just her imagination, or did Wilt turn an even darker shade of red when he kissed her goodbye? She shook her head and shrugged it off. He was right. It was late. Grabbing the two dishes from the table, she took them to the sink, washed them out, and then headed off for her own cozy, little room.

--- ---

"Hurry up, Terrence," a voice replied, sounding perky. "Is time for breakfast. Vámonos, si?"

"What…time is it…?" he heard himself ask. "So tired."

"Es eight thirty. We must hurry. Time for breakfast."

"Eight thirty? In the morning? Are you people braindead?" his voice was slow and slurred. "I just went to bed. Go away, you moron…"

"Co coco coco!" another voice chimed in, angrier than the first. "Co CO!" Something nudged at his arm and he was quick to swat it away. Still, it persisted.

"Alright," he growled, swatting it away again. "I'll get up. Just piss off!"

The sound of footsteps filled his ears, fading in the distance. They were gone now, obviously expecting him to actually greet the morning as perky as they seemed to be. He turned his head in an attempt to fall back asleep.

"Terrence! What are you guys still doing in bed for?" Terrence recognized this voice as Frankie's, and once again, felt that familiar warmth all over his body. He dared not to move or even breathe, afraid that she would wander over. "You're going to miss breakfast. Hurry up."

Great. She sounded just as perky as everyone else. And she said "guys." Wilt must've still been asleep as well…or maybe it was Mac.. or even Bloo. As if it mattered. There was no way he was going to go back to sleep now; not with everyone rushing in and telling him to get up. They sounded just like Mom…Mac's mom.

Terrence groaned, opening his eyes slightly. The night before was the best sleep he could remember having. He wasn't aching as he often was- he wasn't nearly as tired. He shifted his head on his pillow, and brought his hand to his forehead.

Funny. His arm seemed to weigh a bit more than it had yesterday. He glanced down, finding the source of the problem, holding on tightly to his arm like glue.

"Mac…" he whispered, feeling almost incoherent.

For a moment, it was just like old times. Before Mac had thought up Bloo, when he small and Terrence cared. Back in those times where he had actually cared about his little brother when they were really siblings. Back to a time where nothing could harm them, not even his own anger and hatred. He hadn't been the violent little punk he was now; he hadn't pent up all of his emotions. He was human for a while.

Terrence closed his eyes again, sighing. He felt so content, like he was in a dream. The dreams he used to have. He almost wished it would stay like that forever.

Then he came snapping back into reality. _No… this is a bad thing. I can't let them think that I let him do this. Its bad. Somehow its bad…I think… they'll think I've gone soft and then…then they'll start treating me like shit. They'll walk all over me if they start thinking that…can't let 'em. I can't let 'em._

"Ew! Get offa me, you little freak!" he shrieked, yanking his arm away and pushing Mac onto the floor. He sat up and threw the blankets off, then began spitting on his arm, trying to rid his skin of 'Mac cooties.'

Mac hit the floor with a loud thunk, instantly awakening from his dreams. He sat up, pain exploding in his head for a brief moment before disappearing. "What? What's going on…?" he glanced at the bed, finding Terrence towering over him. "Terrence? What are you doing? What happened?"

Terrence leaned over him, grabbing the collar of his shirt and held him up so that they could see eye to eye. "What the hell did you think you were doing? Huh? Lemme guess. You're just aching for a knuckle sandwich, ain't ya?"

Mac struggled with the other boy, his hands trying to tear his own shirt away from a powerful grip. "Nightmares," he gasped. "Nightmares. You were having nightmares. I-I thought that maybe if you had someone else with you, they might go away. I thought…I thought…"

Terrence watched the boy struggle, his eyes fearful. He had always noticed a fear in Mac's eyes, but never had he seen them so frightened. Somehow, it just didn't seem worth it, beating him up. Not now. Closing his eyes in frustration, he released Mac, watching him hit the floor for the second time that morning.

He sat back down on the bed, burying his face in his hands. "Why do you have to do this to me, you fucking idiot? Why do you have to make me look like such a pansy?! Do you know what everyone would think if they saw us being all buddy buddy?"

Mac sat on the floor, rubbing at his head. He stared up at Terrence in confusion, awaiting any physical harm that the other boy would surely deliver upon him.

"They'd think I was a little wimp like you. They'd think I was weak," Terrence answered his own question. He pushed Mac onto his back, and pinned him down with his foot. "Well, I ain't like you. I don't know how I can drive it any better into your big, stupid head that I hate you. Why can't you understand that? Why do you keep caring? I'm not your brother! We're not even related, for Christ's sake!" For nearly every word, he pushed his sneaker down harder on Mac's young chest, as if to crush the youngster.

Mac looked away and whimpered, his eyes swelling with tears. Terrence wasn't sure if it was caused by his so called 'emotionally-crushing words' or the pain.

_God, I've done it now… _Terrence thought, suddenly regretting his words. It felt weird. He couldn't remember the last time he regretted anything. _Time for the water works…maybe I shouldn't have screamed at him…he is only eight… fuck, like it matters anyway… I don't care. _

"Get over it," he replied coldly, taking his foot off of Mac and roughly kicking him aside. He headed for the door, blocking out Mac's little squeal from the hurt. "Hurry up. Wouldn't want to be late for the freak-fest breakfast, now would we?"

"I'll be there in a minute," Mac answered, his voice cracking as he began standing up, gripping his aching stomach. "Go…go ahead without me…"

Terrence didn't bother turning around; he continued walking, looking unfazed by the situation. On the inside, however, he could feel all the guilt building up. "No," he reasoned to himself. "This is who I am. I'm not a pathetic little wimp like he is. I'm better than that, and I don't care about his stupid feelings. If he hates the kind of person I am, then he can just run home and go cry to his lying mommy. Like a baby."

_Besides…its probably better if he stays away from me…so he doesn't get hurt worse. Especially if I'm really an Extreme-a-saur…_

His thoughts shifted back to the night before. The talk with Duchess. That fucking Duchess…she had threatened him…threatened to hurt Mac. Nobody hurt Mac unless it was Terrence. It was a promise he had made to himself a while back, just after Mac had gotten beaten into a little pile of snot by some junior high kids. He would never admit it anyone, but it drove him mad to see anyone touch his little brother in any attempt to harm him. "It shouldn't bug me now," he replied, still wandering down the same hallway. "We're not brothers anymore. I don't have to care about him now."

--- ---

_She was just sitting there, hugging the pillow to her chest and biting on her fingernail. The room was in total silence, save for the clock ticking away nearby on her dresser. _

_Terrence shifted lightly on the bed, looking at everything he could possibly find to be somewhat interesting: the ceiling, the floor, the pictures; none of which interested him enough to last more than five seconds in vision. Finally, he switched his attention back to her. _

_It was so uncomfortable._

_Was she regretting what she had done earlier, with that….? He shivered absent-mindedly, not at all sure whether or not it was a good thing or a bad one. She did indeed look as though she regretted kissing him. Had he actually understood what was going on at the time, maybe he could've stopped her from doing it. Even if a part of him had enjoyed it. A simple kiss wasn't worth the pain she looked like she was facing now._

_He cleared his throat. "Are you okay?"_

_She snapped out of whatever trance she was in, turning her head to look at him. Her eyes were filled with tears, and her face was pale and filled with unbelievable sadness. "Its my fault, Terrence," she replied, voice threatening to break into sobs. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen."_

_Terrence stared. "What? What are you talking about? That kiss? Don't worry about it, its okay. We can still be friends."_

_She shook her head as they tears came down, slowly and painfully. "No…no, we can't." She looked away, trying to hide the unmistakable fact that she was crying. "We can't anymore. I have to give you up."_

"_What?! Why?" he shrieked, standing up in anger. "It was a kiss! And-and I know you couldn't help it, and I didn't mind it either! Its okay, I swear! I still want to be your friend! If its such a bad thing, we don't have to kiss or whatever ever again!"_

"_Terrence, stop," she pleaded, still crying. "Its not my decision…If I could, I'd keep you for a million years, and even more than that if I could…but I can't. Mommy and Daddy…."_

_That was it. He suddenly felt any hope of convincing her slip away with the sudden mention of her parents, who finally decided to act like they cared about her, and tear them apart. The one time for them to actually pay any real attention to her and it just happened to be when they kissed._

"_They…they saw me kiss you," she wiped her eyes. "They don't want me to love you. They want me to grow up, to love someone real." They're eyes met, and Terrence felt his heart drop, slamming against the bottom of his stomach. "And you're not. You're an imaginary friend. And I can't keep you anymore."_

_Terrence growled. He felt his fists clench, and a feeling unlike anything he'd ever felt before suddenly made itself known to his system. He felt his body grow hotter and hotter with each passing moment, and the images that were flashing around in his brain only added to it. "I'll deal with this. I'm not going to let them do this to us! We're friends! They can't possibly…" _

_Before he could stop himself, his fist connected with her closet, dislocating it from the hinges. He withdrew, the anger still raw in his system, but he tried to hold it back. Never had he felt so uncontrollable._

"_I'm sorry."_

_She curled up into a ball on her bed, watching him with fear in her eyes. "Please don't do that again…"_

_He stared at his fist, red and throbbing from the recent blow. Had he done that? Was that some strange, violent reaction from some unknown source in his body. "I didn't mean to. Its just…you're parents. They're making me go away…I just wanna-"_

_She grabbed onto him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest. She sobbed openly now, unable to make the tears the tears go away and he sat back down on the bed. A part of him wanted to push her away, for having such horrible people as parents. But it wasn't her fault. None of this was. _

_He recalled a few years back when she was about nine, long before she had a crush on a strange, mystery person she never seemed to stop loving, and never pointed out to Terrence. Back to a conversation about fate. Someone had told her that everything that occurred, every incident, was Fate and there was nothing more to it than that._

_If this was indeed Fate, then Fate sucked._

_Terrence didn't push her away. He didn't have the heart to, as he would sometime later on in life. He felt a tear tug at his eye and he wiped it away quickly. He closed his eyes, and wrapped his arms around her, letting her cry and cry for as long as she could, before she fell asleep._

_Staring off at the wall, with his sleeping creator in his arms, a wave of questions overcame him, and he asked aloud to no one in particular, "What am I going to do now?"_

Am I going to die?

When I lose everything….do I disappear?

--- ---

Bloo sat at the table, impatiently awaiting his best friend's arrival. His stomach was practically eating itself as he stared at all that food. "God, how much longer could Mac take? Breakfast started about an hour ago!" he groaned, slumping in his chair. "And I'm starving!"

"Oh, stop being so overdramatic, Bloo," Frankie said, taking a seat nearby. "I'm sure he and Terrence will be here soon. They probably just had to go to the bathroom or something. Relax. And by the way, breakfast started one minute ago. They still have time before the Bunny sends out the search party."

Bloo stared at his plate, his tummy growling at him to eat, when someone pulled the seat out next to him, and promptly sat down. "Mac!" he chimed with glee. "Its about ti- oh, its you." His happy expression faded and he shot Terrence a glare.

Terrence elbowed him harshly under the table. "Shut up, Bloofus. The last thing you need is an excuse for me to kill you."

Bloo wasn't finished. He had gone through all the trouble of saving Mac a seat this morning and within a few seconds, Terrence had taken over as if he were God. "That's Mac's seat, you jerk. Go pump out your doom and gloom attitude somewhere else."

"Bloo," Frankie warned. "Not now. Lets just enjoy breakfast for a change without someone having a nasty argument about something, okay?"

"Where is Mac, anyway?" Wilt questioned, resting his arm on the tabletop. "Bloo, I would've thought that you and him would come downstairs together."

Bloo made a face, remembering the scene he had woken up to. "He was still asleep when I got up. Sleeping with his wonderful, beloved abuser of a big brother," he replied, watching Terrence from the corner of his eye. "Its amazing he wasn't black and blue…" he added in a mumble.

Terrence paid the situation minimal mind, concentrating more on what Duchess had said. Still, he added in a disinterested tone, "He said he'd be here in a minute. He just needs some time to change his diapers."

Bloo glared again.

"Sorry I'm late," a voice came from Bloo's other side. "I ran into a little problem. The bathroom was packed."

"Mac!" Bloo squeaked, smiling in delight as his best friend took a seat next to him. "Glad you could join us, buddy."

"The bathroom was packed?" Wilt asked, staring at Mac. "But all the other friends have been down here for a while. About ten minutes before Eduardo and Coco went upstairs to wake you two up. How could the bathrooms have been-"

Mac made an odd gesture with his hands, running his finger quickly against his neck in a cutting motion. Wilt understood perfectly and kept his mouth shut. "So," the little boy tried to change the subject. "How did everyone sleep last night?"

"Fine," Terrence and Wilt answered at the same moment, hesitant when they realized they had done so. Terrence glared for a moment before growling and poking at his food. Wilt shifted his gaze away and proceeded to eat breakfast. There was an awkward silence; the sound of silverware against the plates and the chewing noises from every friend blazed around in the room, echoing off of the walls.

Bloo watched in a sort of disgust as Terrence continued poking at his food, looking distressed. He hadn't taken a single bite of breakfast; he just sat there stabbing and tormenting the food lump as if it were a freak on display.

"Since you're in the company of polite society," the blue blob snapped suddenly, "I don't think it would be too much trouble for you to actually stop playing with your food." He promptly began shoving his face into the nearby plate of bacon and eggs.

"Bloo, show me how the piggies eat," Frankie giggled, looking highly amused. "As I recall, you play with your food all the time, polite society or not."

Bloo closed his eyes, taking a moment to grace her with a comment. "In case you've forgotten, Frankie. I'm an artist. I can do whatever I want with my food," he justified poorly, forcing a large piece of toast into his mouth. "I ca't hewp it iph I'm awshome." He swallowed his newly chewed food, before smiling and glancing over at his best friend. "Right, Mac?"

Mac smirked, rolling his eyes. "Uh huh. Sure you are, buddy. Now let's hurry up and eat. I have to get home soon. I told Mom I'd be back by-" He shut up almost immediately, watching as a most unpleasant situation was begin to present itself with every word he'd just said.

One of the other friends sat there, glaring at his plate, biting his bottom lip with crooked teeth. He had stabbed through his food with the now dented fork in his grip. He had done this so abruptly, and with such forced that a cracking noise could be heard above everything else, and the plate broke beneath the food.

Terrence stood up abruptly, dropping the silverware on the floor. "I'm not hungry," he snarled lowly, flashing Mac a look. "I think I'm gonna skip this one. Its making me sick."

"Terrence, wait," Mac tried to take it back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say anything. Just come back and eat. Please? Before you really do get sick. You haven't eaten in two days."

Terrence didn't acknowledge him in any way; instead, he continued on out of the room and made his way up the steps. He had to get out of there before the feelings came back to haunt him. Breakfast at Foster's reminded him too much of breakfast at home, right down from the food they served, to the way it was cooked, to the conversation. It was too close to home for him to stand.

Now he really did feel like he was going to be sick. His stomach pounded with painful throbs. He wondered if it was actually from not eating anything. Regardless, Terrence was fully aware that anything he would eat today, wasn't going to stay down.

He just had to get away from all the painful reminders for a while. That would ease his whining stomach and get rid of the trips down memory road, if only for a few hours.

He knew he'd be okay once he reached the bedroom.

If he reached it.

--- ---

"We've gotta do something about Terrence," Mac replied as he and Bloo headed for the front door, all of his clothes packed, readied for home. "I don't know how much longer anyone can take this."

Bloo nodded, watching the patterns pass by on the carpet below them. "I know what you mean. Maybe we can push him down the stairs. Even if he just breaks a leg, he can't chase after anyone who makes him angry for a while. That's always a good thing, right?"

Mac rolled his eyes. "That's not what I meant, Bloo. I wanna do something for Terrence that'll make him happy…happier. He's always the worst when he's upset. Maybe if we do something nice for him, like really great, he won't be so…violent and filled with raw anger."

"You wanna do something for Terrence?"

"Yep."

"Terrence Terrence."

"Uh huh."

"To…make him happy?"

"You got it."

"Mac, what is wrong with you?!" Bloo squealed, stopping in the middle of the hall. "Oh man, maybe Terrence is right! Maybe you really are as dense as you look! Really, he's still cussing, he's still making threats, he's still the bad guy. He's doing this on purpose because he knows it hurts people. And you know what? He doesn't care. Stop acting like he's the victim!"

"But he is…" Mac replied. "Bloo, I can see it. He's still upset about Mom lying to us and leaving him. I mean, let's say after years and years of telling you that you were my imaginary friend, I suddenly told you that you really my…my….um, brother and we were putting you up for adoption somewhere, how would you feel?"

Bloo stared at him as if he were the stupidest creature alive. "Mac, that is one of the dumbest things I've ever heard you say. For one thing, you did do that to me…except for the brother part. You set me up for adoption, remember? That's why we're here now. Duh."

"Yeah, and how did it make you feel?" asked the boy, finally reaching the point of the whole conversation.

Bloo closed his eyes, looking quite sure of himself. "That's not the point. The real point is that he's not going to wise up to the fact that there's no way around this. He's an imaginary friend, he's stuck here at Foster's, and everyone hates him. Acting like an even bigger jerk than usual isn't helping." He pointed accusingly at Mac, "And you're not getting it either. You just need to let it go, so we can start doing fun thing's again. Ever since he's gotten here, its been all 'Terrence this' and 'Terrence that.' You just need to forget about him. I'm your friend, so I'm ten times more important than that creep."

Mac groaned, frustrated at the fact that Bloo didn't understand. "Bloo, just try to understand. If I give up on him, there's no telling what he'll do or how long it'll be before he snaps. I'm all he has now, and I'm not about to let the fact that we're not really related or that he has a bad attitude get in the way of how I feel about him."

"And that's the problem!" Bloo shrieked. "You still have feelings for him! No matter what he does or how he treats me and everyone else, you still care about him!"

"He's my brother," Mac sighed, walking again. "I've always known him as my brother, and despite all the bad things he's done and how much of a jerk he is, I'll still love him like a brother. That's just the way it is."

A sudden shriek snapped them out of their conversation, followed by the sound of near-rhythmic pounding. The two turned around, seeing something roll down the steps in an agonizing manner. It hit the bottom painfully hard and rolled out into the middle of the room.

"Duchess!" Mac and Bloo breathed in unison, in shock over what they had seen. Well, perhaps it wasn't total surprise; the two had figured this would happen at some point. It was more so common knowledge that one of the friends in the house would snap in a sudden wave of anger towards the disgusting creature that lay on the floor now, and do something to her. They just never thought in would be so dangerous, what with the potential of breaking her neck on the fall down.

"Oh man," Bloo whimpered, hiding behind his friend. "Mac, there's a murderer in the house…What if we're next? Oh man, oh man, oh man!"

Mac cautiously walked up close to where Duchess lay and tapped her gently with his foot. The creature turned her head to him and snarled, "What are you doing, you little imbecile? Go get help! I've just fallen down the stairs! Hurry up before I die or something! Ouch! Ooooh!"

_Wouldn't that be a pity_, Mac couldn't help but think, feeling only a little guilt after he had thought it. He turned his attention back to Bloo, "She's not dead. Go get Mr. Herriman and Frankie. They can help us get her back up to her room."

Bloo nodded in obvious discontent, disappointed in the fact that Duchess was in fact still alive. He slouched his way out of the room, looking away from Duchess only for a moment when he heard Herriman arrive.

Herriman bounded towards, looking slightly red in the face from worry after hearing such news. He was quick to grab Duchess's hand and attend to her every need. "Miss Duchess, are you okay?" he prompted, trying not appear flustered.

"It hurts!" the friend wailed. "Please, find whoever did this to me and lock them away! Lock them out back with those horrible extreme-a-saurs for what he did to me! He's probably still at the top of the steps. Ow! Ow ow ow!"

"Don't you think the person who pushed you down the stairs would have had enough brains to have run off by now?" Mac queried, looking a tad skeptical. "Heck, even Terrence would have run off."

"Yeah," Bloo chimed in, grinning. "And he's an idiot."

Duchess glared, the scowl on her face all too apparent. "Just do it!"

They all looked at the top of the stairs, finding the one person no one would doubt doing such a thing. At the very top step stood Terrence, looking extremely winded as he held onto the banister for support.

"I think Uh'm gonna throw up again…my head…it hurts…" he muttered, putting his hand over his mouth.

"Terrence?" Mac gasped. "You…you did this this? You pushed her down the stairs?" He took a step back, not believing what he was seeing.

"Oh, my back!" Duchess howled, still lying on the floor. "My arm! My head! It hurts! I think the little runt broke something! Oh, it hurts, it hurts! Somebody free me from this pain that I am cursed with! Ow..ow…!"

"Terrence…" Mac whispered his name again. "Terrence, how could you do this…?"

"So much for Terrence running off, eh Mac?" Bloo replied, looking to his friend.

Terrence was currently paying no mind to the conversation. He fell to his knees, his face losing almost all color. Barely able to keep himself up, he answered with an aching, "I need…Pepto….Bismah-" he grunted, "Ibu…profen…Vicoden…get me morphine…"

"Hurry, someone help get me to her room," Herriman quickly grabbed hold of Duchess's arms, dragging her across the floor in a very uncomfortable manner. "Quickly, quickly."

Terrence began to make his way down the steps, still holding on the railing as he did so. "What's…what's going on ?" His strange nausea was beginning to fade with every step down. He had managed to suppress the urge to vomit, and anything that had come up, he had swallowed. The color was returning to his face, slowly; he was still a pale shade. "I 'fink I got food pois'ning. My head really, really hurts."

"No! No, get him away before he shoves me down another flight of stairs!" Duchess shrieked, holding out her hand as if that would stop him from coming closer.

Terrence stared at her through half-lidded eyes, confusion obvious on his face. "What's going on? Did someone die? Was it that ugly Duchess….freak…thing?" He was obviously unable to comprehend just who she was at the moment.

Mac felt the color from his own face disappear. Day three, and already his 'brother' had tried to kill someone. "I can't believe this. This has to be some kinda mistake. Not even he's that low. He'd never stoop to pushing someone down a flight of stairs."

"I don't know, Mac," Bloo replied. "Remember that time he shoved us in a pillowcase and tried to roll us down the fire escape? That's pretty much the same thing. Except we didn't deserve it."

"Oh," Terrence chuckled slightly, (the nausea seemed to have disappeared almost completely) stepping over the wounded friend. "It is her. Oh well, its not as if anyone gonna care anyway."

"Master Terrence!" Herriman demanded abruptly. "In all my years I've never seen someone so undisciplined and bloodthirsty enough to commit such a horrendous crime while living in Foster's! To think that you, out newest resident, could be responsible for such a thing! Well, I assure you, contrary to your previous home, we here do not allow attempted murderers to go running about, trying to kill innocent people as they wish! I will take care of this little incident immediately, you-you…Extreme-a-saur!"

Terrence was dumbfounded, to say the very least. "You think I did this!?" he shrieked, pointing at Duchess. "No way! Give me a little more credit than that! Why would I want to push her down the steps? Anyone could've done that! Everyone hates her! Not just me!"

The room was silent, in disbelief, in shock. It seemed that most everyone had already made their own assumptions, and Terrence's stomach dropped with a nauseating realization:

"You don't believe me."

"The odds really do look against you," Bloo informed, looking rather disturbed by the situation, but not at all shocked that the perpetrator was, in fact, Terrence of all people.

Mac, however, being the intelligent boy wonder he was, was not thoroughly convinced. He looked at Mr. Herriman, pleading with his eight year old eyes. "Mr. Herriman, I know he didn't do this. I mean, what proof do you have? For all we know, Terrence might've just happened to walk along at this very moment. How do we know that he really pushed her down the steps?"

"And who else could it have been?" Herriman countered. "Everyone else was having breakfast in the dining room. My boy, if you have a better suspect, then I would most certainly like to hear it."

Mac opened his mouth to speak, not that anything to tear the suspicion from Terrence would've exited it, but another spoke first. A voice that told the child at that very instant, that things were going to go from worse to unbelievable Hell. He suddenly wished that everything would just disappear.

"Terrence," a stunned voice came from the front doorway. "Tell me you didn't do this…"

The boy took a glimpse behind Mac and Bloo, and behind Mr. Herriman, finding his ex-mother standing, her mouth gaping wide open as if she were catching flies. Her eyes were full of such horror and awe, filling with the pained realization that her creation had done something so awful. "My God," she heard herself breathe.

Terrence glanced at Duchess and then at the woman, and back at Duchess again. He suddenly understood just what was happening, and the sickness returned.

--- ---

--- --- ---

--- --

A/N: I really tried to get Terrence's violent side back into the story, at least a little. He really hasn't done much damage since the first chapter. Random note. Blah blah bloo.


	6. Without a Fight

Terra Incognita

--- ---

Chapter 6: Without a Fight

--- ---

_Day after day_

_Your home life's a wreck_

_The powers that be just breathe down your neck_

_You get no respect_

_You get no relief_

_You gotta speak out_

_And yell out your peace_

_How many times is it gonna take_

'_Till someone around you hears what you say?_

_You tried to be cool_

_You feel like a lie_

_You've played by their rules _

_Now its their turn to try._

_All I Want, The Offspring_

_--- ---_

Terrence rolled over on his bed, pain throbbing in his chest. It felt as if someone had stabbed him, over and over and over again, ripping out every organ he held within him. God, just when it seemed like things couldn't get any worse, someone from above decided to shit on him, as if he were a teenage toilet. He groaned, flopping over on his stomach.

And then **_she _**had to show up. Her of all people. And at the most inopportune moment. And naturally, as she had always done when it seemed (and usually was) like he was the culprit, stared at him with those accusing eyes. It never bothered him before now, but he supposed that was because he had actually done something wrong all those other times.

Well, that, and he always figured she **had **to love him no matter what he did. Now, that wasn't the case.

How he had gotten out of the situation was really unknown to him. Mac's mother had left shortly after, when Terrence was pardoned by Mr. Herriman. He remember this all too well.

--

"Please, Terrence," Mac's mother whimpered, dropping her purse to the floor without even realized she had done so. "You couldn't have done this, right? Right?"

Terrence stared at her for a moment, then nodded dumbly. "No, I didn't," he answered, still nodding. _Why am I nodding?_ "I swear. Don't you think that if I wanted to hurt that freak that maybe I would've thought of something a little more creative? And why the hell would I still be at the top of the stairs, just waiting to get caught? That's stupid! Give me a little more credit here for Christ's sake!"

"Hold your tongue, Master Terrence," Herriman barked, obviously not pleased with the teen's choice of words. "I can see your point, however. What person would continue to stand around the crime scene? That is quite preposterous." He bit his lip, mumbling an, "And, even so, it is Duchess."

Terrence smirked, glancing at Duchess, who, by now, had forgotten all about being injured. He made a face, watching in delight as her grotesquely-colored skin turned an even uglier color of tuscan red. He looked back at Mr. Herriman, a wide smile spread across his youthful features.

The large rabbit ignored the forced act of innocence. "Without any evidence concerning this matter, I have no choice but to allow you to carry on, Master Terrence. That goes for the rest of you as well."

"Awesome," Terrence responded.

Herriman leant down, staring into Terrence's face, a would-be menacing gaze piercing into the boy. "But mark my words, you will be under strict surveillance, until we find the guilty party of this monstrous act. Are we clear?"

Terrence's grin faded quickly. He scowled, and muttered," Crystal, bunny."

"Oh thank God," Mom gleefully joined the her sons in their merriment, hugging Mac up into her arms. She put her arm around Terrence, and he shoved it away, looking quite repulsed at her sudden action. She jerked her arm back towards her, a look of sadness overcoming that of joy.

Herriman snorted, bounding over to Duchess (who was quick to remember the kind of horrible pain she was in), and began to assist her up the steps.

Bloo stood on the sidelines, rolling his eyes every moment or so, until Mom rested Mac on the ground. He joined his friend, tugging on his shirt to remind him that they should go and embark on some fun adventure.

"Mac," Mom whispered. "Why don't you go play with Bloo for a little bit, while I talk to Terrence." Her voice sounded suddenly exhausted and slow. Mac nodded, succumbing to Bloo's tugs and the two friends ran off.

Terrence turned her back to her, his arms crossed, and he slouched madly. He had often been told that this would ruin his spine or his back or whatever people had said, but that didn't matter now.

"Terrence, I…I told you I'd visit." Her voice was exceptionally kind today.

_She feels guilty_, the teen thought, uncaring. _Fine, let her feel that way. I hope it eats her up inside…its not like she really cares anyway…_

"How…how is Foster's? Do you like it here?" Even though he wasn't facing her, he knew she was trying to forced a smile. Yes. Smiles always made the pain go away…sure, whatever. "I know its new, but Mac told me that Bloo really enjoys it here, and there's so many other friends that are really nice."

He said nothing.

"I knew you couldn't have done it. You know, pushing her down the steps…"

Terrence turned around this time, glaring with all the ferocity he could muster. "Are you so sure?" He turned around once more and bounded up the steps. He left her standing there, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

---

Ever since he had run up those steps, the pain had been there haunting. _All I feel now is pain. Ever since she told me. God, it fucking hurts. I wish it would go away, before I explode…._

He could hear their voices outside as they were leaving. Mac said his goodbyes to Bloo, with the usual (he assumed it was usual) "I'll see ya later, buddy," and Mom was sniffling. Jesus, she was crying again. _Why does she have to fucking cry all the time? That's so stupid and weak and dumb, just like everyone here. Just like Mac and Bloofus and everybody, 'cept for me._

He remembered what Mac had asked him just before he left, and his body stiffened. He didn't want to remember anything anymore. Ever.

"_Terrence…what happened when you went upstairs? When you came down after Duchess fell, you looked…horrible…_

He hadn't even looked at Mac. He had closed his eyes, and curled up into a ball on his bed. _"I don't remember," he answered. _

He did remember. And that's what made him so angry.

Standing in the doorway, trying not to make a sound, Wilt stared off at the new Foster's resident. _Man, these first few days are always tough, but I've never seen anyone have as much trouble as he is. I wish there was something we could do…_

Eduardo bounded towards the tall one, unknowing of his friend's silence game. He smiled wide, that row of fearful fangs glinting out under the lights. "Hey, Wilt!"

Wilt whisked out of the doorway and clamped his hand over Eduardo's mouth. "Shhh, Ed. Terrence isn't supposed to know that I'm out here. I don't want him to know how sorry I am for him. That'd just make him angry…er So please keep your voice down."

Eduardo smiled apologetically as Wilt took his hand away. "Lo siento. I just came to tell you, 'The Loved and The Loveless' is on. New episode. Estupendo," he whispered, nearly unable to keep his excitement to himself. "Vámonos. Before we miss it."

Wilt sighed despondently, staring back into the bedroom. "I dunno. I don't think I'd be able to enjoy it. Not with Terrence feeling so miserable." he sighed again. "I told Frankie I'd give him a chance. But as long as he's like this, things are only going to get worse. Ya know, from all the stories Mac and Bloo used to tell us, I thought he was a horrible kid, but now…there's seems to be so much more to it than that. Extreme-a-saur or not, he doesn't deserve this."

The smile had long since disappeared from Eduardo's features. He watched the floor, looking as Wilt did; worried and saddened. "How we make Terrence feel better?"

"Well, I've been thinking," Wilt answered, suddenly snapping from his temporary sadness. "Mr. Herriman thinks that Terrence really did push Duchess down the steps. Maybe we can figure out who really did it, and then he won't feel _as _bad. But who could it have been?"

"Wow, you guys are having a really boring conversation," a high-toned voice spoke from next to them.

"Azul?" Eduardo noticed suddenly that the blue creature had been listening in on the conversation.

"Yeah," Bloo replied, happy to know that he was being noticed. "Just said goodbye to Mac; he'll be back tomorrow. Man, did you see that thing downstairs? I can't believe Herriman didn't kick Terrence out. I mean, what does it take to get someone thrown out of this house?"

Wilt stared at him, slightly angered, and a little suspicious. "Gee, Bloo. I hope you didn't have anything to do with trying to hurt Duchess in an insidious plot to get rid of Mac's brother?"

Bloo made a face in disgust. "What? No way! I would never. First of all, I was with Mac when she fell, and thirdly, pushing her would mean that I'd have to touch her. No way, man. I'd probably get rabies or something…"

"Well, if it wasn't you or Terrence, then who could it have been?" Wilt asked, shrugging in confusion. "Everyone here hates Duchess, but I don't know anyone that would actually push her down a flight of steps."

Bloo grinned. "Well, I do. His name's Bendy." He noted the sudden confusion on his friends' faces, and sighed, rolling his eyes as he often did. "Yellow guy, big scary eyebrows, likes to get people in trouble for things that he did. Remember? C'mon, it wasn't that long ago."

"No way," Wilt blurted out, unbelieving. "He wouldn't take a risk like that. Not after pretty much everyone pointed fingers at him, and Herriman and Frankie didn't have any other choice but to believe us. Don't you remember, Bloo? One more strike and he's out of here. Kind of like you. "

"Si," Eduardo chimed in. "One more strike, then," he made a waving motion with his left hand. "Adiós, Bendy."

"What happened to Duchess seems like more of a Berry thing." Wilt added. "What with the whole 'I'm crazy' thing."

Bloo stared. "Who?"

Wilt sighed in frustration. "Nevermind. The point is that if Bendy even attempted to try something like that, he'd have to be caught by now."

Bloo rolled his eyes again, his supreme powers of convincing others not at its peak today. "Who else could it be? If not Bendy, then it had to be Terrence. Work with me here, people."

"Well, I guess that does make a lot of sense," Wilt replied in defeat. "I don't know why he would take such a big risk when he's so close to being kicked out. That's just crazy, but it is the closest thing to a suspect we have…"

Bloo grinned. "Yeah, I'm always right. It's Bendy. You'll see, cuz I'm always right."

There was a loud sound, a coughing noise, coming out from one of the speakers suddenly; all three friends jumped, not expecting that sort of thing at the moment, and in that moment, Eduardo screamed and began to race around the hallways, fearful for his life.

Wilt and Bloo watched him race back and forth, the smaller one snickering all the while, and Wilt sighed, slightly shaking his head.

"Attention! There is someone here to adopt."

That caught their attention.

"Hey, someone's here to adopt," Wilt smiled with glee. He turned towards the bedroom, and pushed his head through the doorway. "Hey, Terrence, hurry up! Someone's here to ado-" He stopped himself short, idiotically forgetting of the boy's predicament. "Um, never mind. You can just stay here until you're ready to come downstairs."

Terrence said nothing; he grunted a little, shifted his weight, and remained silent. Wilt stared for a moment longer before leading Eduardo down the hallway. For a moment, he could swear that he could hear Terrence crying, but shrugged that thought off quickly. Terrence would never allow himself to cry; that much was obvious.

Bloo waited. After watching the two other friends scamper along with hopes of being adopted, his small thoughts turned to the abandoned boy in the room nearby. How dare he gain sympathy so quickly, especially after how rotten he had treated everyone else. Violence and more violence. "Maybe…if I show everyone just how horrible a person Terrence really is, they'll have no choice but to kick him out." He grinned mischievously, rubbing his nub hands together and peaking into Terrence's bedroom.

Another thought graced his mind, this one a little less pleasant than the first. "But if Terrence gets kicked out then Mac's going to be miserable….and then he'll be too upset to worship the ground I walk on…." He thought a moment longer. "But if Terrence stays, then I'll be miserable. Hmmm…..decisions decisions…"

In the end, the winner of the battling thoughts was no surprise to anyone, especially Bloo himself, and he slunk into the bedroom like a little, blue worm, slithering to Terrence's bed. The boy appeared to be sleeping the day away now, and, provided that Bloo actually had a conscience, it might've kicked in at that moment, telling him to leave Terrence alone.

This was not the case. Bloo positioned himself on the mattress of the bed, bit his lip, and kicked Terrence square in the butt.

Time stopped for a brief second or so; Terrence's delayed reaction caught Bloo off guard, and when the boy finally did react, the friend couldn't have asked for a worse time to be frozen with fear.

Terrence shrieked, his hand grasping the seat of his pants, and he rolled over, free hand reaching out to Bloo. Bloo dodged the first punch, but not the second, and he instantly fell off the bed. Terrence followed, rolling away from the blankets and pushing himself off the mattress. His menacing eyes shot straight through the imaginary creature and Bloo shrieked, scampering out the door and down the hallway.

Terrence followed closely, all the while screaming a horrible slur of curses and insults. With each step, he'd come closer and closer, practically within arm's reach of nabbing the bugger, and then Bloo would dodge swiftly to the left or the right and Terrence would fall head over heels, leap up to his feet, and the cycle would start again.

They headed down the stairs, the one behind nearly falling from time to time, no doubt willing to break his neck just to unleash the violence welling up within his fists.

"I'm gonna get you, you stupid freak!" Terrence shrieked at the top of his lungs. "And then, I'm gonna pound you into a nasty, Bloo paste and feed you to those stupid girly horses in the back of this stupid, ugly house!" He jumped the last banister of the stairs, and landed on top of his victim, pinning him down with all of his weight.

Bloo gasped, feeling all of the air escape his lungs, and a sense of lightheaded-ness overcame him. He glanced up at his attacker, raising a hand to signal his defeat, but he was ignored. Any words that attempted to make it up his throat were silenced by his own lack of air, and came out as nothing more than a simple wheeze.

This was it. He was doomed.

Terrence growled, raising Bloo up in the air. He shook him violently for moment, sending Bloo's stomach reeling with discomfort. "You're gonna regret the day you were ever born, you little sh-"

"Terrence," Frankie's voice drifted up the stairs. She stared at him in an angry sort of manner and, with one finger, beckoned him to drop Bloo and come down the steps. "Terrence, what has everyone been telling you? Violence isn't allowed here at Foster's, even if it is Bloo."

"Hey!" Bloo shrieked, though all continued to ignored his presence.

Frankie sighed, her expression softening as Bloo hit the ground, and Terrence began his small journey downward (though not before hissing a sweet threat at the small imaginary friend). "Sorry, I forgot to tell you this before, but whenever Herriman announces that there's someone here to adopt, all imaginary friends have to come downstairs to actually get looked over, and possibly get adopted. The only exception to that is Bloo, for, well, obvious reasons."

Terrence glanced around in shock, his eyes falling on small group of children, three of which couldn't have been much younger than him; around the ages of 12 or so, these ones looking unbelievably familiar. He gritted his teeth together, hands balled into fists, and anyone who would've bothered to glance at his eyes would've sworn that they flashed red.

"So?" he growled, turning his attention back to Frankie. "What does that have to do with me?" He felt a little crummy for speaking to her like that, all mouthy and rude, but since he was doing an impeccable job at suppressing the red in his cheeks and the giddiness that he had felt every other time he'd seen, now was not the time to play little mister nice boy and let his guard down.

"Look," Frankie replied, ignoring his impoliteness. "I know you've only been here for a few days, and you're still getting adjusted, but now that you're an imaginary friend here, you have to get adopted just like everyone else. That what this home was created for."

"Can we hurry this up!" One of the smaller children shrieked, eliciting a sudden whiny gasp from her equally small friend. She brushed some red hair from her youthful face and grabbed onto the jacket collar of one of the older boys. "Ed! Get them to hurry up, NOW!"

Ed stared, his expression showing little sign that he had heard, let alone understood, a single word the little girl had said.

"Yeah, lumpy," another of the older boys growled, smacking him on the back of the head. "I wanna get outta here sometime today. We got scams to run, ya know. Tell your stupid sister to hurry up and pick out her stupid imaginary friend already. I don't see why she can't just make up her own…"

"I think its great that Sarah's decided to adopt a friend rather than inventing her own, Eddy," the third of the boys remarked., adjusting his red shirt, then beanie. "Its great to know that rather than add to the number of friends that are and will be abandoned, she'll be picking someone off of that darkened street of unbearable loneliness and giving them the love and care that they need."

Eddy smiled rottenly, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Yeah right, then throwing the poor sucker right back into this dump," he replied harshly. "Let's just hurry up and get out of here already." His scanned the crowd of imaginary friends impatiently, his gaze running over Terrence for a split second, passing him, then suddenly resting on him again.

"That's funny…" he replied, squinting. "That one looks really familiar…Like I know him from somewhere… Double D., check that guy out. Does he look familiar to you?"

Edd stared for a moment, squinting his eyes to try and match the face to a name. "Well, he does look like someone we've had encounters with before…" His face suddenly went white and his eyes bulged as the realization dawned on him. "Eddy!" he whispered, though it was still rather loud. "Eddy, that's the kid from the bus! The one that punched you in the face!"

Eddy growled. "It is him! That jerk! What's he doing here anyway? Just who does he think he is, muscling in on my territory!"

Edd raised an eyebrow and folded his eyes, that familiar look of skepticism on his features. "Oh, since when is a Foster home for imaginary friends your territory, Eddy? This is the first time we've even acknowledged the fact that this place exists."

"That's not important!" Eddy snarled, frustrated at the fact the his friend didn't know when to shut up. "I'm gonna give that jerk something he should've gotten along time ago!" Fists clenched, he ignored Double D's pesky attempts to stop him, however unsuccessful, and stomped up to Terrence.

Terrence had been far too distracted with arguing with Wilt, who had intervened when the boy wouldn't stop arguing with Frankie, to even notice the fact that Eddy, or anyone else for that matter, was alive. It wasn't until Eddy was actually standing before him and began to shriek and scream that he tore his attention away from the imaginary friend. With Eddy's yammering shaking him out of conversation, he did the only thing he knew to do when someone was annoying him.

His fist shot straight into Eddy's face.

For those that have ever spun around in a circle for about a minute, and felt the onslaught of nausea and incoherence that follow after, that is what Eddy was feeling now. He could taste the blood that was filling his mouth and dripping out from his lips and he could feel himself flying for a second before he hit the ground on his face.

"Eddy!" Edd shrieked, running to his friend and pulling his up. "Eddy, speak to me!"

Eddy glanced up at Edd, eyes glazed over and blood dripping out of his mouth. He grinned like an idiot and answered with a half conscious, "Are you an angel?"

Edd blushed ferociously, but only shook his head, and began to drag his friend away.

Terrence watched the little scene, scowling. "I remember you little freaks. You're those dorks from the bus. I don't want to hear it; I gave that little snot exactly what he had coming to him, and nothing's gonna change that!"

There was a pause; none of the friends dared to say a word, and the only thing that could be heard were Eddy's grunts and groans as the situation became clear to him again. Frankie had wandered off to the Bunny's office just shortly before Terrence's attack on Eddy, for what everyone guessed was paperwork.

Suddenly, something broke the silence, shattering it with a high pitched, cankerous scream. Everyone froze, the demand not something anyone would've expected.

"I want him!" Sarah shrieked, a menacing smile across her face. "He's the imaginary friend that I want!" She grabbed her simple brother's ear and yanked him to face Terrence. "See, Ed?"

Ed stared for a moment, his eyes crossed, mouth slightly open. He didn't seem capable of understanding what his little sister was trying to say at the moment, not that he was trying all that hard. A hard gaze at the imaginary friend finally forced his brain to snap to functioning again, and he made a worried face.

"Um, Sarah, why don't you get a nice friend?" he asked, voice trembling with fear at what her reaction would be. "Like that ugly green bug-creature over there. It looks like one of the evil, flesh-eating monster stinkbugs from Evil Tim."

Duchess glared.

"Wait, uh," Wit intervened, stepping between Sarah and Terrence. "You don't want him! He's abusive! All he ever does is hit us and beat us up! You really don't want him." Within a second, he had bent down, grabbed Terrence's hand and forced the boy's fist into his own fuzzy, red face. "See? He's dangerous!"

"Si," Eduardo chimed in, standing behind Wilt's legs. "And he's scary. He mean and angry and evil…."

Sarah gritted her teeth, grabbing her brother's ear yet again, and yanking him down to her level. "I said I want that one!" she pointed at Terrence again, who appeared to be in too much shock to move. "I don't want the ugly bug lady; I want the one with the mullet! And once I get him, I'm gonna have him tear you in two!"

"This is ridiculous!" Eddy retorted, stomping towards Terrence, while a pacifistic Edd tried to hold him back. "If you think for one minute that I'm gonna let this psychotic birdbrain in the cul-de-sac where he's just gonna ruin everything for everyone, you're nuts!"

Terrence growled, grabbing the collar of Eddy's shirt. "What did you just say? Just who the hell do you think you are, you short freak! You just don't learn!"

"Eddy, please…" Edd pleaded, knowing that this was another one of those painful scenario moments the Eds were so very familiar with. "Just leave them alone. If Sarah wants to get him, then let her…before we have two bullies beating the life out of us…"

"Shut up, Double D," Eddy growled, making every attempt to force Terrence to let him go. The blood was still fresh in his mouth, but despite the fact that his brain continued to send him signals and his cowardly nature, he couldn't stop himself from trying to get back at Terrence. "This guy's messing with my turf."

"Your turf?" Edd questioned.

"Your turf?" Terrence grinned cruelly, tightening his grip on the boy's shirt. You can keep your stupid turf, shrimpy. All I want is to rearrange your fat face. Just like I did on the bus."

Sarah giggled, staring at Terrence with all the admiration she could muster. "Ya see, Jimmy," she replied, still giggling sweetly. "That's why I want him. All of our problems can be wrapped up in a few simple beatings. Won't that be fun?"

Jimmy pouted, crossing his arms and looking away. "Sure," he muttered. "If you enjoy that sort of barbaric behavior…"

The other imaginary friends watched on as Terrence pulled back his fist, targeting directly for Eddy's face, and preparing for the blood that was likely to shower his knuckles. It had been a long time since he had made anyone bleed before today. He had never really gone that far with Mac, though there were the occasional accidents that he later claimed were on purpose, just for kicks. In fact, the last person he had made to bleed was none other than Eddy on the bus.

"Hey," the short boy suddenly burst out, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "We, uh, we can work this out, can't we? No need for violence or anything like that. Right? Right?"

Terrence wasn't listening. It was also invigorating; he felt as if all his problems, everything that had gone wrong in the short time he'd been practically drowned in shit, was all going to end at the single thrust of his fist into the other kid's face. He could barely feel the hands of the on-looking imaginary friends trying to pull him away; he could barely feel the harsh slap that knocked him to the floor, and he released Eddy's shirt almost immediately.

Frankie had never been one for violence, but whenever these situations came up where it seemed that violence was the only course of action, she took it. Not that she really considered slapping someone to defend another was violent, but she couldn't really call it defense either.

Nevertheless, when her hand came flying into Terrence's cheek, she could help but feel a twinge of guilt strike her, especially when she caught a brief glimpse of a tear swell up in his eye. He fell to the floor, the sound of his pained holler reaching her ears.

He stared up at her, briefly, then closed his eyes and lay there on the floor, unmoving. He looked as though he were waiting to die.

She turned to the small girl, watching out of the corner of her eye, the two boys, friends of the short, loud one, help him up, and escort him towards the door. The child's eyes never left Terrence, who was currently resisting Wilt's attempt to help him to his feet, her eyes flashing with impending plans of violence towards her brother and his friends.

Adopting Terrence to do the one thing he knew better than anyone else in Foster's. Hurt people. Not only was that not fair to this Sarah girl's brother, but it wasn't fair to Terrence. _He doesn't need to forced to resort back to that. Not when Mac's trying to wean him off of it. He doesn't need any of that…_

"I'm sorry," she heard herself inform. "I can't let you adopt him. He's a wild animal. He actually wasn't supposed to leave his room."

"What?" Sarah whined, quickly stepping back into innocent little girl mode. "But….but I want him…"

"He's not up for adoption," Frankie repeated, glancing at where Terrence lay a second time. He still hadn't moved. "Plus, his release papers aren't all in order yet. Until then, he can't be adopted. But you're more than welcome to look at the other imaginary friends. If you're looking for someone sleazy and rotten, then I'm sure that you'd just love Duchess." She pointed nearby, and Duchess immediately straightened up, not totally keen on the words used to describe her, but at least the child was looking her way.

Sarah observed Duchess for a moment before growling yet again. "I don't want her! She's ugly!"

"Oh please, take her!" Frankie whined, kneeling down. "She's one of the greatest friends ever and she's just as bad as Terrence is, maybe even more so. Go on, take her away. You know you want to."

Jimmy stepped forward, a strange sort of look across his face. "That's horrible, Sarah. I guess we'll just have to go home, without one." he promptly turned and headed for the exit, until he realized that Sarah hadn't budged. "Sarah?"

"I'm not leaving without my friend, and I want that one!" She continued to point at Terrence, and grabbed hold of his arm.

Terrence, who had long ago realized that he was stuck in the middle of everything, was in no mood to go taking orders from someone Mac's age group and decided that it would be a cold day in hell before he willingly went along to play with a bunch of disgusting brats.

Unfortunately, he came to the conclusion that there was nothing he could do about it, with the exception of standing there like an idiot, watching the whole thing go on and on, like the 'Titanic' movie. He had hoped that the whole trying to beat up another kid would detour the little girl, but it seemed to only make her want him more.

He glanced at Wilt and Eduardo, confusion suddenly wiping his mind clean of many other important occurrences for the moment. They had tried to help him; they tried to help him from being adopted, which, granted, didn't work, but it set off a completely foreign emotion inside of him. Could it be that they….**_cared_**?

_Do they really care about me? And after what I did to them? After what I said to that tall, red freak…?_

_Somebody actually cares…I have to make them stop. This is wrong. All of it's wrong. No one's supposed to feel things for me…._

A feeling of familiarity passed over his stomach, then his chest, then his throat, and soared up out of his mouth. The vomit didn't make it to the floor; no, it landed on the one person who least expected it.

Sarah shrieked.

--- ---

--- --- ---

--- ---

A/N: FINALLY! Chapter 6 is up and running. I apologize for the delay, but, once again, writer's block. This is the best I could manage to spit out within the past months, so I'm terribly sorry if I disappointed you….again. But I really must thank you all for reading and reviewing. Its what keeps the show running, after all. :)

Toodles.


	7. Falls Apart

Terra Incognita

--- ---

A/N: I slooooooow.

--- ---

Chapter 7: Falls Apart

--- ---

_I'm talking to the ceiling,  
My life just lost all meaning,  
Do one thing for me tonight,  
I'm dying in this silence._

_Oh fuck, I can't let this kill me.  
_

_- Here's Your Letter, Blink 182  
_

_--- ---_

Terrence stared out the window, looking down at the street lying just out front of the house. A week had passed since the incident, vomiting all over that little girl's shirt. Now, normally, he'd think it was the greatest thing in the world, giving some brat kid what she deserved (and she actually deserved it), but he was not content; he hadn't actually thought about it much .

What he thought about instead were the other incidents. And there were many. Each one more horrible than the last; friends getting hurt, being pranked upon, victimized, by some unknown person. Terrence knew. Of course he knew. Especially since Herriman felt it right to blame the boy himself.

"I know its him," he had heard the rabbit conversing with Frankie a few hours before. "He's always around for every incident."

"You don't have any proof," Frankie remarked. "No one even knows who's been pulling this stuff on them. For all we know, it could be Bloo practicing for April Fool's Day again, or Duchess might be having one of her monthly spasms."

"Trust me, Ms. Francis, its Terrence all right," Herriman growled. "And when I catch him in the act, our worries will be put to rest."

"But-"

"Foster's does certainly not harbor extreme-a-saurs."

And that was that. Terrence would have to be careful at where he was at all times, or the person framing him would get what they wanted, and he'd be out on the streets.

Among the many things that plagued him recently (ever since first stepping into the God-forsaken shamble) was the fact that Wilt had recently brought to his attention yet another thing which made his stomach twist and turn, and that fact could be nothing other than Mac's birthday.

The runt would be turning nine. Of course this not only meant that he wouldn't be able to deliver his usual gift of 'bruise for every birthday', but it was also meant that as Mac would be getting older, Terrence would remain the same.

Forever and ever and ever.

A tear nearly strayed from the corner of his eye, but he quickly wiped it away before anyone would be able to see it. "Fuck," he muttered, pulling his legs up to his chest. And burying his head in his arms.

The hard clacking of footsteps knocked him from his thoughts, but he didn't bother to move; he knew who it was, the stench of evil a dead giveaway.

"You threw yourself down the fucking stairs, didn't you, you sick monster, and you've been hurting all those other friends too. You're fucking trying to frame me," he growled, fists ready to come wailing down upon the creature within a moment. He held back, knowing the consequences full and well. So he swallowed his rage, feeling his body shudder, his heart beat rapidly until it felt like it would explode.

"Now, Terrence, darling," the creature hissed. "Why on Earth why I do that? I have no reason to lie, you know. Everyone knows that you are an even bigger monster than I could ever prove to be." She paused, a devilish smile spread across what was supposed to be a face. "Besides, I would think that a boy of your charming reputation would understand. I told you you'd suffer."

Terrence bit his lip and stood up, facing her. That heart of his beat against his insides harshly, silently pleading with him to unleash his rage before it swallowed him up and destroyed him. He ignored it.

"You honestly think you can keep this up?" he snarled, inches away from her. "Someone's going to catch on eventually. Just because no one will believe me over you, doesn't mean that they'll ignore what my friends have to say."

Duchess snorted. "Oh really! Tell me you did not just call those freaks your friends!" she laughed, almost in hysterics. Terrence rubbed at his arm, shame plastered all over him like dirt. "You don't have any friends, you little pest. Friends are for those who care for others, who love and are loved. Such things are not meant for you."

The boy bit his lip. He hadn't meant to say that at all; it was just a slip of the tongue. Figures he'd wind up saying it around Duchess, and, naturally, she used it against him. Idiot.

"Like you're any fucking prize," he retorted, crossing his arms and turning his back to her. "I bet your kid dumped as soon as it thought you up. At least mine cared enough about me to keep for fucking a million years. And Mac-" he stopped himself, knowing that anything about Mac would most certainly be used to his disadvantage. "They may not be my friends, but they like me a hell of a lot more than anyone will ever like you. You're fucked."

Duchess glared, her distorted face twitching with anger and madness. Unable to think up a satisfactory remark, she simply grunted and made her way out of the room.

Terrence smiled for a moment, victorious for the first time in this damn house, before reality dawned on him and he remembered where he was and what he had just said.

"So what if they're not my friends," he growled, settling back near the window again, even more agitated than before. "I don't need any stupid imaginary friend freaks. I don't need them, or Mac, or that fucking woman he calls mom. I don't need anyone…" He said this so often nowadays, it seemed that he was trying to convince himself more than anything.

He paused for a moment, silence all around him. It was almost unbearable. Almost…

"I'd give anything to go home…"

"You know, every friend feel like that," a gentle voice interrupted his thoughts. "But eventually, you get used to living somewhere else. The pain is still there from before, but…"

Terrence turned his head, finding Wilt sitting beside him. "It fades with time. And then you find another child to love who loves you." He smiled, his life so filled with optimism, as if he couldn't see a single flaw in anything. As if he couldn't see that sitting near Terrence was a bad thing.

Terrence jumped in his seat. "Gah! Where the hell did you come from?"

"I saw Duchess leave your room, and I thought…that maybe you could use a friend, Wilt answered, hesitantly it seemed.

"You thought wrong. Leave me alone."

Wilt was quiet for a moment. "But I-"

"What the hell did I just say? You're pissing me off. Go away and leave me alone."

"You know, with an attitude like that, I don't think anyone will want to adopt you in the first place," Wilt ignored his request. "I don't really understand why you wouldn't want to be adopted anyway. I mean, you'll be bringing joy to a child's heart, and when they're happy, it makes you happy."

Terrence grimaced, slouching in his seat. "Yeah? Well, forgive me if I refuse to see the good in hopping from kid to kid. Oh yeah, it must be great, getting dumped then loved, then dumped then loved, and on and on. If you think I'm gonna fall for that crap again, you're insane."

Wilt laughed, his wonky eye wobbling around as he did so. It was a tad distracting. "I'm not insane, just…really optimistic. Comes with the programming, I guess you could say."

"Yeah? Well, if we could all just run on our 'programming', I wouldn't be in this freaking mess, now would I?" Terrence snapped.. "Can't even remember my 'programming' or whatever. Maybe I really am an Extreme-a-saur or something."

Wilt's smile faded for a moment. "Terrence, I don't know just what kind of friend your mother created you to be but….I don't think that you're an Extreme-a-saur. I mean, anyone who can raise a boy like Mac couldn't be capable of such a thing. I think…" he thought for a moment, that familiar smile returning, "I think the way you act is just that. An act. It's an older brother thing.. That's the way you understand that older brothers act, and being an older brother doesn't make you an Extreme-a-saur. It just makes you violent."

"Great, so now I don't even have an excuse. Thanks."

Wilt glanced at the floor for a brief moment, deep in thought in seemed, before looking back at Terrence, smile wide. :So what are you getting Mac for his birthday?"

Terrence sighed loudly, that ever present look of annoyance upon his features. "Look, I'm really tired, so why don't you buzz off and let me sleep for a while. The last thing I wanna talk about is that little dweeb's birthday." He lay down on his bed, turning his back to the scarlet friend, and snuggled against the blankets.

Wilt blinked, the smile gone from his face. "Oh," he replied, "I'm sorry. I'll just let you rest for a while. Sorry to…to keep you awake." He stood, with that all too familiar smile flashing at the boy, and promptly left.

For one of the first times in his life, or at the least the years he could remember, Terrence felt guilty.

_Why am I being so mean to him…? I guess he **is **just trying to help…so why? Because. What's the point of being nice to people? Its not going to get me anywhere. Besides…if you make friends, you'll just drag them down with you_. He felt his lip quiver, and a choke broke free from his throat. _I'm never going to get anywhere with this…I'm going to be all alone for the rest of my life…I wish I could make it all just go away…_

As he lay there, plagued by his own silent, tearless sobbing, he closed his eyes and begin to drift away into his own little world.

Who knew that there would only be more sadness where he was going.

--- ---

--- --- ---

--- ---

"_So this is it," he replied, standing near the door. Her parents would be home soon, and then…He shook his head, tears swelling up in his eyes. He held them back, not wanting her to see him cry; it would only make things harder._

_She nodded, a small "hm," in reply, and resumed her silence on the floor near the kitchen table. She was crying, but, like Terrence, tried to hide it as best as possible. _

_Today was the day. They'd be kicking him out. Of course, they didn't come right out and say it. He and his girl had overheard them the night before, arguing as they often did lately, usually over whether or not he should stay. Her mother shouted and screamed for hours, on and on about how her precious baby should be entitled to have a perfect life with all the perfect luxuries, and a perfect boy who was…human. _

_Her father shouted and screamed back, opposing every decision she was making on the situation. He countered with how much they needed each other, and Terrence couldn't agree with him more. _

_In the end, her father gave up, and the decision was made; Terrence wouldn't be coming back. _

_He stayed up all night crying, burying his face into a pillow, and she snuggled up to him, sobbing her heart out as everything fell apart. _

_Here she was again, having crawled over to his side, and buried her face into his shirt. Tears soaked through the clothing, and it was more than even he could bear. He broke down, holding her in his arms, and they cried again. _

_His body hurt all over, and as the sound of the front door creaking open caught his ears, he could almost hear the sound of his own heart breaking. _

_Her father said nothing; he headed for the bedroom, but not before reaching Terrence, and resting a gentle hand on the top of his head. Then he was gone, and Terrence and his girl fell under the gaze of the woman. _

_She reached out, waiting for him to grab hold of her hand and accept the fact that he was alone. "Come on, Terrence. I found a wonderful place for you to stay. Everyone is very friendly there, and you may even get adopted by another child." She forced a smile, so fake, so different. "Now take my hand and let's go."_

_Terrence did no such thing. He wrapped his arms around the girl and glared up at her mother. "No, I want to stay. I'm apart of this family. Why won't you treat me like it?" the frustration was obvious in his eyes, but this didn't matter. Her mother's determination was far stronger than anything he had left to give. _

_She pleaded. "Terrence, please don't make this harder than it already is. Please."_

_He shook his head sharply, refusing to budge. _

_She grabbed him roughly by the collar of his overshirt, and he instinctively began fighting back, struggling, kicking, scratching, anything to get away from her and back to his creator. _

_Terrified, the girl did nothing. She was in terror, unable to move and help him. She called his name, over and over, tears rushing from he reddened eyes, and her father watched from the hallway, he, too, unable to do anything. _

_In the end, Terrence fell to the floor, exhausted from struggling and the girl's mother reached down and picked him up. She dragged him across the floor, towards the front door._

_He glanced up, hearing the broken screams of the little girl, and he reached out a hand to her. The door slammed closed between them, and he cried again, defeated and alone. _

_It would be the last time he'd ever see her. _

--- ---

"Terrence?"

Terrence opened his eyes weakly, adjusting to the light coming in from the window. His mouth felt dry, like he'd had a cotton ball in his mouth for hours on end. "Huh? What's going on?" he asked, sitting up on his arm. "Did Duchess frame me again?"

It took him a moment to realize it was Frankie, sitting on the edge of his bed. "No," she replied. "Sorry to wake you up. I know you haven't been getting a whole lot of sleep since you got here, but I'm taking a few of the friends birthday shopping for Mac, and I wanted to know if you wanted to go with. He is your brother after all."

Terrence swung his legs over the side of the bed, starring at his dangling shoes. "He's not really my brother, you know. We're not related or anything…but yeah, sure. I'll go. I owe him after all. If it weren't for the little retard, I'd probably be living in a box somewhere."

Frankie smiled. "Cool. Go ahead and brush your teeth and stuff, and then come downstairs. We're loading the bus in ten minutes. And don't sweat it. Mac still loves you as a brother whether your blood brothers or not. You know, he told me about the time you took on those bullies for him. That took some guts, to face that kind of beating. And you did it for Mac too."

Terrence looked at her in surprise. "He swore he'd never tell anyone. Hell, it was three years ago. I didn't even think he'd remember." he smiled. "That was great. I kicked the crap out of them like they were nothing. I'd give anything to feel that way again. Full of power. Like I was the strongest person alive…"

There was a pause. "Besides, no one lays a hand on Mac except for me."

Frankie said nothing, the smile on her face widened. _Wow, real human emotion. And its concern. From Terrence! This must be how those therapists feel when they make a breakthrough with a troubled patient…or something._

Terrence was having thoughts of his own:_ Man, she's hot. And here I am, prattling on with my stupid emotions. Like a girl or something. I better shut up, before she really hates me._ "Not that I care though," he added quickly, trying to shed his recent state of mushiness.

Frankie shook her head, still smiling, and headed for the bedroom door. "Alright, alright, Mr. Toughguy. No more sentimental conversation. You don't have to act macho anymore. Just meet me down in the foyer in ten minutes alright?"

Terrence nodded dumbly as she walked away, and he was left alone.

--- ---

--- --- ---

--- ---

"He has five minutes left before we leave," Frankie replied, looking at her watch. "Is everyone else ready? Wait, where's Bloo? I hate it when he runs off like this."

"He ran to the bathroom," Wilt informed, sitting at the bottom of the steps. "At least we still have a little bit of time before we leave. He didn't decide to go at the last minute like last time. So how was Terrence when you woke him up? He didn't hit you or threaten you, did he?"

Frankie raised an eyebrow. "What? No, of course not. We had a nice little chat. You know, I think he's behaviors getting better and better. I think the longer he stays, the better he'll react to living here."

There was a small rattling noise above them.

A noise.

Then a crash.

Breaking glass; Eduardo screaming. Surely, no one could survive the impact of the chandelier, impaling a person with it's jagged edges of broken shards, or even the weight of the chandelier itself.

The screaming didn't last for very long.

For a moment, Frankie feared the worse. She remembered as she tried to clear her thoughts, the incident itself. She had seen the chandelier falling…Coco was by the stairs; Wilt had been standing next to her, and Eduardo had been.

She gasped, feeling her heart pound right out of her chest. "Eduardo!" Her eyes began scanning the area, catching every reflection upon the shards lying on the floor. "Eduardo! Are you okay?" She panicked, and then a familiar, gentle voice rang in her ears.

Eduardo sat up, rubbing at his sore back from the shove. "Si," he groaned slowly. "I okay. Coco saved me. I almost die but she save me." he smiled at his bird-plane-plant friend, almost looking embarrassed. "Gracias, Coco."

Coco returned the smile, replying with a simple, "Coco."

Frankie stared in bewilderment at the mess, still a little shaken from the incident, but doing a marvelous job at hiding it. "How could this have happened? I just don't understand… Alright, anyone who's not wearing shoes need to stay away, so they don't get hurt." She walked towards the chandelier, bent over and began examining the whole.

"Do you see anything wrong with it, Frankie?" Wilt cautiously stepped closer, rubbing his back where a few shards had hit him.

Frankie's answer was a bit delayed. She seemed to be inspecting something, staring at its strangeness. She reached forward, yanking something from the hook, where the chandelier and the chain connected. "The chain's been unhooked…but…how do you explain this, Wilt? How are we going to explain this to everyone?"

She held out her hand, revealing a piece of red flannel cloth, torn apart from bigger clothing. Wilt turned his head away the moment he realized what it was and who it belonged to.

"It can't be," Frankie replied, shaking her head slightly . "I just saw him upstairs. There's no way even that he's capable of this. Terrence is capable of a lot of things, but this…"she trailed off, her gaze set on the damage lying all over the floor. "This is just extreme."

"You can't be serious," a coarse voice purred from nearby. The group turned, each set of eyes finding Duchess standing at the bottom of the stairs. "Of course he did it. That 'boy' has been up to no good since he arrived. He's already pushed me down the stairs. What makes you so sure that this wasn't his doing!"

Frankie glared. "Speaking of being pushed down the stairs, shouldn't you be up in your room, 'recovering', Duchess?"

Duchess rolled her eyes. "I heard the commotion. I simply wanted to see if anyone," she glanced at Eduardo and snorted, "important was hurt. How tragic that would have been." She snorted, gazing upon the scene, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "That's it. Surely Herriman will have him thrown out for this. Now our simple boy-turned-friend is a friend-turned-Extreme-a-saur, and we all know that Herriman doesn't allow monsters like him to roam around Foster's. He'll be out quicker than you can say-"

"Don't you dare accuse me," Terrence's voice traveled down the stairs into the foyer interrupting the friend's rant. He stood at the top of the steps, glaring down at the group. "I know you're going to. I can see it coming so don't you dare do it." He began to head down the steps, and it was then that they noticed his signature red flannel shirt was missing from the picture.

"Well, speak of the monster," Duchess grinned, folding her arms. "So tell us, Terrence, where's that red flannel of yours that you are always wearing. It wouldn't happen to be torn, would it? Missing a piece similar to the one Frankie found on the broken chandelier? What did you do? Get rid of the evidence? Threw it away, didn't you?"

Terrence stared at her, long and hard, while the others' eyes were on him, waiting for a response. It felt like forever that the silence lasted. Eduardo whimpered; Duchess chuckled.

"You did it, didn't you There's no use denying it now."

--- ---

--- --- ---

--- ---

A/N: Aaaaaaghh! Flashbacks! Pure evil!

Confused now, aren't ya:)


	8. Collateral

Need some help here guys. Some feed back is necessary I think. Like what? Hate what? Would like to see this, etc. and so on and so forth. Help me out. Those reviews really help. :)

Terra Incognita

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Chapter 8: Collateral

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_I tried to be perfect  
It just wasn't worth it  
Nothing could ever be so wrong  
It's hard to believe me  
It never gets easy  
I guess I knew that all along_

_ Pieces, Sum 41_

---- ----

Terrence grinned, and the group seem to catch that old familiar look of deception and mischief upon his face. " I don't need to deny it. I gave my shirt to Rollover to put in the washing machine. It needed a little cleanup before Mac's birthday. And its in one piece. If you need to verify my alibi, I'm sure that freaky little imaginary friend would be more than happy to talk about it."

Duchess growled. "Oh, believe me, I intend to. You don't fool me for one second, little boy. Just because these morons have yet to catch you in the act doesn't mean that no one's accusing you. Silently maybe, but there's not a soul in this house that doesn't know you're the one trying to harm the household residents." She began to head for the stairs, leaning in close to him as she passed.

"You think I haven't trapped you yet, but rest assured, I know. Just like I know you threw away your shirt. Just like I know you think you've won," she whispered, her deep voice scratching his ear drums. "I haven't yet begun to tear your life apart."

"Freak," Terrence muttered as she headed up the steps. He turned to the others, doing his best not to seem at all fazed by the situation, though in his own mind he was screaming and swearing at the steps being taken to ensure his termination. "We going, or not? Let's hurry up and go to the stupid mall so we can get the stupid twerp a stupid present from some stupid store for his dumb little birthday."

Nobody moved. There eyes were so accusing yet none of them dared say a word. The silence was beginning to burn his ears. He was waiting, just waiting for that moment when they would explode in a fierce burst of harsh words and pointed fingers.

He decided to break the quiet himself.

"Aw, come on!" He snarled. "You can't possibly believe that I did that! I mean, how the hell could I possibly get to that chandelier and rig it so it would fall on that chicken?! The only one that can actually reach up there is Red there, and maybe Duchess somehow with her ugly 'powers!' Look at some other evidence besides a chunk of red clothing that could belong to anything or anyone!"

"Look, Terrence," Frankie chimed in before he could resume with anymore ranting. "Why don't we discuss this when we get back? We should really be getting to the mall to pick up presents for you broth- Mac." She noted the wince on his face at one of her accidental words.

He said nothing, casting her a look, and then began to head for the door. "Let's go already. You can accuse me of stuff I didn't do when we get back. Let's just get Mac's dumb presents before I change my mind."

--- --- ---

Eduardo shifted in his seat next to Wilt, looking in a paranoid manner out the window. "Did you think that Terrence really tried to kill me?"

"No, of course not!" Wilt chirped optimistically, though he could not help but doubt his own words. The evidence seemed to be piling up against Terrence and it would only be a matter of time before the truth was revealed. "I'm sure it was all just a coincidence or a misunderstanding….or something."

Eduardo's nervous demeanor did not seem to fade in the slightest. He glanced at Terrence, who sat in his seat, alone, at the back of the bus. No one had spoken a word to him since they'd left the house, and he hadn't even attempted to utter a thing. He sat there, like a plague had rested upon him.

The bus jerked to a stop, as old buses often do, and the group rushed forth from its confines like a wave, Bloo leading the way.

The blob squealed in delight, heading for the doors, when Frankie's agitated voice caught him. "Bloo!! Don't move another step!" She screamed, watching as he froze in mid step. "I am not going to have another disaster on my hands! Now get back here!"

Bloo rolled his eyes and pouted, heading back to the group. "Awwww! But its right there!"

"Everybody grab a partner," Frankie replied, ignoring Bloo's complaints. "I'm not going to have another mall fiasco like last time." She glanced at Terrence, who did little more than grunt and look on as the other friends grabbed a hold of one another. "That means you too, Terrence."

Terrence jumped at the sound of her voice, realizing what she had just had just said, and made a face. "I'm not a child. I'm older than you are, and I'm not going to be leading some bozo imaginary friend around like a freaking dog."

Frankie rolled her eyes, and grabbed his hand. "Fine then. At least hold _my _hand so I can keep an eye on you. God forbid you cooperate for just one minute."

Terrence felt his cheeks turn red again. "Y-Your hand? You wah-wah-want me to hoh-hold your hand?" He grinned like an idiot, a wave of bliss taking over.

"Relax, its not as if I have cooties or something," the woman explained, sarcasm dripping from her words. "Alright, come on guys. Let's hurry this up, and no running all over the place like last time!" She glared at some one in particular. "Bloo."

"Its not my fault that Madame Foster's birthday just happened to be the day that it was on and everyone knows that's the busiest mall shopping shoppers day of all time," Bloo defended, trying to tear his arm from Eduardo's tight grip. "Besides, nothing bad happened."

Frankie groaned. "Let's just hurry this up," she replied, leading the way into the mall. "Now, everyone stay…"the moment she turned around to confront the group, they had dispersed. "together… Figures."

Terrence tore his hand out of her grip. "I'll see you in the arcade," he answered her question before she could open her mouth to ask it. "I'll just win Mac something." He trotted off, leaving Frankie to shake her head and start for the nearest store.

Terrence couldn't remember the last time he had felt so…normal. It seemed like forever since he'd been to the mall to just hang out and play videogames. Yanking a quarter from his pocket, he pushed it into a machine, and dazed off into a world of dejavu.

"Well, well, well," a voice cooed softly in his ear, followed by a malicious chuckle. Terrence paled considerably, and turned around. He knew the owner's voice the moment he heard it, and quickly saw that the owner wasn't alone either. The voice spoke again, drawing Terrence from the game. "I never woulda guessed, Terrence…the imaginawy fwiend!"

Terrence groaned inwardly. "Sid," he muttered. "What the hell do you want?"

Sid grinned, showing off a revolting set of braces. "Nothin'. I just kinda stopped by to see how you were doing, poor baby! Ain't that right, Joeh?"

He moved aside, letting Joeh step forward, his face a fiery red. Joeh seemed to be hiding something in his mouth, as his cheeks were puffy and large. It wouldn't take long for Terrence to find out why.

He burst out laughing, almost on the floor from hysterics, and Sid was quick to join in. The two grabbed hold of each other for support, while Terrence stood there, clearly not enjoying what looked to be like some kind of joke.

"So, Terrence," Joeh managed to speak, still stifling his fit of giggles. "When did you first realize you were a….a…" more giggles, "an imaginary friend?"

Terrence said nothing; he clenched his fists, trying to suppress the anger that threatened to unleash itself upon them.

"Oh no, Joeh," Sid remarked, his face turning serious, as he grabbed the other boy's shoulders from behind. The two stared at Terrence, a smile suddenly returning to Sid's young features. "He's always known, haven't you, Terr? The poor baby. He's been trying to hide it all this time, going to school, and beating up that little twerp brother of his. No more of that now, huh? But don't worry, Terrence. I'll take good care of Mac after school, just like I did today." He chuckled slightly, watching Terrence's reaction. "He screams like a girl."

Terrence's eyes snapped wide open, glaring with all the rage of Hell at the two boys. With lightning speed, he raced forward, shoving Joeh to the floor, and grabbing onto the collar of Sid's shirt. He forced the teen into the wall just behind them and lifted him up a good two inches off of the ground.

Sid's face was twisted into a horrid expression of fear as Terrence came nose to nose with him, the gaze making him feel as though his eyes would bleed. "Man, what the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"Don't you ever, EVER fucking touch Mac again!" Terrence screamed, slamming Sid back into the wall repeatedly. "If I ever find a single fucking bruise on him that I know wasn't caused by me, I swear to God, I will find you and KILL you! Get it?!"

"Man, Terrence, you need to relax," Joeh replied lazily, standing up. "You imaginary friends ain't s'possed to have temper tantrums like that. It could get you into trouble."

Terrence looked at him, still holding onto the obviously fearful Sid. "Speaking of trouble, when did they let you out? I was under the impression that you were insane." He averted his eyes, shifting them back to Sid. "Of course, maybe you're just stupid or somethin'. By the looks of the company you keep, I'd say that about sums it up…"

He dropped Sid, who landed on the floor with an amazing thump and scampered back to his feet. "So you wanna fight, Terr?" Sid grunted. "I always wanted to hand you your ass in a bag…" He stopped just a few words short of finishing his sentence when his eyes caught a small group standing just behind Terrence.

"Excuse me, but just what is going on here?" Frankie growled, holding a small paper bag, as they other friends stood nearby. "Terrence, say goodbye to your friends. Its time to head back to Foster's." She reached out and grabbed his hand.

Sid quickly grabbed hold of Terrence's sleeve, stopping the other boy from leaving with his group. "Whoa, Terr," he chuckled viciously. "Is this your girlfriend? She's a hot one, but I think she'd much rather date a real man like me. Hell, I'm the closest she's ever gonna get to anything human as long as she's around you guys." He made a quick glance at Frankie, and then back at Terrence. "Besides, I like older women."

Frankie made a face. "Excuse me?!" she hissed in disgust, attempting to pull Terrence away from the other boy.

Terrence didn't say a word. In an instant, he tore away from Frankie, and proceeded to connect his fist into Sid's metal mouth. A stream of blood spurted form the fresh new cut in the rude boy's lip, and he fell to the floor.

This didn't stop Terrence from continuing the battle. He took hold of Sid's shirt collar and went all out with the beating, his fist raging on and on.

Frankie quickly dropped the bag as she and Wilt attempted to pull the friend off of the human child, while Sid's accomplice tried to pull said boy away from Terrence terrifying blows.

"Terrence!" Frankie shrieked, grabbing a handful of his black hair. "Terrence, what the heck are you doing?! Stop it!" She and Wilt gave him a righteous tug, and the three fell backwards, falling into a aching pile.

Terrence growled, attempting to get back up and continue with the beating, but Wilt quickly wrapped a long, thin arm around his chest, and pinned him back.

Sid grabbed hold of Joeh's outstretched arm, pulling himself up. His face was severely battered, bleeding and swollen; blood dribbled out between his lips from where his braces had cut the insides of his mouth; and his eyes were black and blue. He whimpered, wrapping an arm around Joeh's shoulder for support.

Sid glared, and Terrence glared back. "I'm gonna get you, you fucking imaginary freak. You just wait, Terr. I'm gonna get you for this, even if I have to start with your stupid little brother."

They wandered off, a little trail of blood following them as they disappeared.

Terrence pulled away from Wilt, shoving his arms away. He felt so wonderfully great, exhilarated even. The thrill of unleashing his anger out upon another individual was his greatest achievement in weeks. The anger still boiled within him, with the fact that his one sided fight had been cut short.

As he dusted his jeans off, he felt the eyes of his companions upon him, and slowly looked up. Their eyes were full of fear, confusion, and anger. His eyes fell on Frankie. She stared at him, disappointment on her face, and his gaze shifted to Bloo.

Bloo was smiling with great joy. Terrence knew why. He'd made a terrible mistake. After all those weeks of going out of his way to hold his temper, to make sure he stayed out of trouble, to make sure he'd still have a place to stay and prove everyone wrong, he gave into a violent urge.

He failed.

The bus ride home was a long one.

--- --- ---

_People._

_There were so many people. Running around, standing over him, yelling at each other. Someone was screaming for 911. He wasn't sure what that was, however familiar it sounded. But then again, almost everything, besides these people, seemed familiar. The area all around; he could picture it in his head so easily. _

_A man stared down at him, his mouth moving. But for a split moment, Terrence couldn't hear a thing. There was something that had caught his attention, nearby on the pavement. A body. A grossly, torn-up corpse to be specific, staring at him. Its face was caught in the horrific expression, mouth ajar and the tongue twisting out from between a dislocated jaw. _

_It watched him; the left eyeball had been cleanly torn out, and the right had sunken back far into the head. The body itself was mangled, limbs twisting all over the place in ways Terrence didn't even think we're possible. _

_The body had almost completely been torn in half._

_Terrence couldn't help but stare as he remained unmoving on the asphalt. _Did…Did I kill him? What happened? What's going on?!_ He tried to roll over but his body wouldn't cooperate and he glanced back up at the speaking man._

"_Son," the man replied, his eyes wide. "Its going to be okay. The ambulance will be here soon. Everything's going to be okay."_

_Son? Was this man his father? _Is that my name? That can't be my name…that's stupid…_ he looked over to his left, seeing the totaled red car that sat not far from where he lay. There was no way that anyone could've survived an accident such as that, not with how the car itself looked. _

_The sirens knocked him out of whatever thoughts he had left. People swarmed around him, and he panicked, feeling a pain in his head consume everything. He heard himself lash out and scream, feeling hands try to hold him down as they escorted him onto a soft mattress, and wheeled him into a truck. He couldn't stop screaming, and he didn't know why._

_He didn't know why he wanted to get away or why he wanted to get back to the body. He couldn't be sure of what was wrong with him and didn't know how to make them understand. He didn't know much of anything. Not even his own name. _

_The injections were terrible. He tried to resist them, but the men were obviously stronger and forced the syringes deep into his skin._

_The scene seemed to change suddenly; The sounds were different. He cold no longer hear people running about, screaming, nor could he the sounds of sirens and police radios. The outside air was absent; he could tell now that he was in a room, a small air conditioned room, where it seemed that people were deep in conversation, a familiar voice. _

"_My husband is…" This feminine voice choked, sobbed, and somewhere nearby, a tiny child whined. "And Terrence…Oh God, is he going to be alright?! Can he hear me anymore?"_

"_Ma'am," another voice broke in; male. "We tried talking to him a few moments before I brought you in; we ran some tests. The tests have indicated that he has received some brain damage from the accident…"_

_There was a moment of silence. It was almost deafening, aside from his own heartbeat. _

_The woman spoke again. "What's wrong with him? How severe…is it…?"_

"_He's showing signs of amnesia. We still need to verify it in another conversation when he's strong enough, with a guardian of course. He has no memory of the accident, which, under many circumstances, is normal in many car accidents like this one." The voice seemed suddenly hesitant. It sighed. "But…he doesn't remember his name. He doesn't remember his age, his parents, where he lives, no birth date. He can't even remember a single thing about his past. In his mind, its all just a blur."_

"_Will he…ever recover?"_

"_I can't say. Its very unlikely, but I don't know for sure."_

_He could hear this woman sit down somewhere; she began to cry again, and for some reason, beyond his own comprehension, his heart felt as though it had twisted into a knot. He flinched and tried to move, but found himself far too weak. _

_The doctor spoke again. "Just…how are you related to this boy? Nephew? Or is he from another fam-"_

"_That's my son," the voice said; he hadn't noticed before but it sounded so warm and caring, like… "I'm his mother…This is my son, Terrence! _

_Who…who is that? Terrence…? That's my name then? Right? Terrence… he tried to smile to himself, now realizing the truth. The pain proved to be too much for such a thing. He winced, and then, the voice caught his ears again, lulling him into another world._

"_Ma'am…is he…an imaginary…?_

"_Yes….but please don't tell him that. He's very fragile. I don't know how would take that. Remembering nothing; looking human but existing as something else…He's my son."_

"_Very well, miss. If you choose to call this abomination your son, that is your decision," another voice piped in, disgusted and angered for some reason unknown. "Just as long as you understand the repercussions. When he questions it one day, the fact that he hasn't aged, or that he doesn't even possess any traits similar to you or your deceased husband, it will be your undoing." _

"_He really is my son. I love him. Maybe if I love him like a person, that'll be enough."_

"_Ma'am, he's starting to wake up."_

"_Terrence, Terrence sweetie…Come to Mommy…"_

_A flood of light took the darkness, and then, nothing._

---

--- ---

---

"Terrence…" a soft voice called to him. A hand shook his shoulder, forcing him awake, and he grunted, sitting upright in the bus seat. "Terrence," the voice sounded sad and distant. "Its time to get up. Mr. Herriman…he wants to speak with you."

He shot up out of the seat, realizing where he was. That angelic voice was Frankie's, and her sadness was his fault. Cringing at the thought of what he had done at the mall, he pushed passed her, and stepped off of the bus.

The house looked darker than it ever had, as if foretelling his demise.

---

--- ---

---

"Master Terrence."

Herriman's voice was like a knife in his chest. This was it. That fatal moment where he was cast away, homeless, friendless, and without family. What a lonely existence he would be doomed to.

"I have just been informed about your recent _attack _upon two youths in the mall today," Herriman explained. "And I am quite aware that you are aware that the house rules forbid ANY attack upon another person, imaginary or not. You have done just that, and I am quite positive that you are also the culprit of the other recent attacks against the friends of this house. We simply cannot have a menace like you roaming about the halls on your malicious spree."

Terrence only nodded. He had seen that coming a mile away; the false accusations and all. Duchess had succeeded in her plot to get him cast from the house. Her revenge was done, and she could continue to make the lives of the house miserable. Such was the plan all along.

"I'll go get my things," he sighed solemnly, readying himself to stand up before Herriman could say those dreaded words.

"I think not," Herriman snorted. "You see-"

"Terrence!"

The two friends glanced towards Herriman's office doors; Mac stood there in the doorway, looking quite frazzled. His face held a sort of panicked expression, and he charged in, stopping at Terrence's side. "I heard all about it! Why?! Why did you do that!?"

"They were beating you up after school!" Terrence snapped, his patience gone. "Do you honestly think I'm just going to let them do that?! If anyone's going to be beating you up, its going to be me!" He took a glance at Herriman, wondering if he should explain the nature of that sentence, but what would be the point? He was already an exile.

Mac turned to the large rabbit, frantically trying to come up with some excuse to keep his former brother in the company of the other friends. "Please, Mr. Herriman! You have to let Terrence stay! He only beat that kid up to protect me, and he wasn't the one hurting all those other friends!! I know he wouldn't do that! He does a lot of mean things, but he would never do that!"

Terrence stared on as Mac grabbed hold of his arm, holding Terrence close. "I know he can be a jerk sometimes, but….he's really a good person."

The shock that Terrence felt right at that moment was unbelievable. Never in his right mind did he think that his brother could see him as anything other than a monster. "Mac…" he whispered, and the boy looked up at him, smiling that trademark friendly smile. Terrence couldn't help but make an attempt to smile back.

"I'm sorry to say this, Master Mac," Herriman informed, though the tone in his voice did not seem to hint any sign of regret or sorrow. "But your former brother Terrence is nothing more than an Extreme-a-saur, as I originally thought. His actions today have proven that. He's a menace to the members of this household, and to the people living beyond these walls. He is a vicious monster…And therefore, is no longer welcome here in Foster's."

"So you're just going to throw him out?" Mac shrieked, in disbelief.

Herriman glanced in his direction, motioning for Wilt to pull him away from Terrence. "Certainly not," the rabbit corrected, opening a nearby door. He reached inside and pulled out a rather large collar, connected to a heavy, rusty chain that shone in the bright lights above. "We can't have an extreme-a-saur running around doing God-knows what. Young Terrence will go where all extreme-a-saurs found in Foster's go. The back of the house with the other monsters."

"What?" Terrence felt his voice crack as the collar was forced around his neck. Herriman picked up the chain and handed it to Wilt, who stared dumbly at the metal.

"Take this creature to the back of the house, Master Wilt," Herriman ordered, adjusting his monocle. "See to it that he is held in the smaller restraining cage, since he isn't as violent as the other beasts out there. That is the only leniency I will allow for someone with absolutely no regard for others."

"Please, Mr. Herriman," Mac pleaded, running to Terrence's side and clinging to his arm tightly. "You can't! He's not like them! He's not! He's innocent! I swear!"

"Get away from him this instant! Its not at all safe." Herriman quickly yanked the small boy away from Terrence. "I'm sorry, Master Mac, but this boy is far to dangerous to be running out and about around more civilized people. I think what we've seen here proves that." He turned his attention back to Wilt. "See that he's firmly confined and that no one goes near him. I'm entrusting this job to you, Master Wilt. Do not let me down."

Wilt glanced at Mac, then forced his gaze down to the floor. "Yes, Mr. Herriman."

"But you can't do this!" Mac pleaded again, tears in his eyes.

"Master Mac," the rabbit growled. "I understand your concern and brotherly love for him, but it is misplaced. I cannot risk the health and lives of any other friends in Foster's simply because you want to believe that Terrence is a well-adjusted individual. If Terrence does anything further to any friend, the blame will not rest on me, young sir. It will be yours and yours alone." He took a breath, putting his arms behind his back. "Meaning if he somehow manages to get loose and hurt someone else, I'm afraid that I will have to forbid you and any other friend involved from returning to Foster's."

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A/N: Dun dun dun…


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